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Stories  of 

The  World’s  Holidays 

BY 

GRACE  HUMPHREY 


10 


o o ■* 


U O 5 3 j. 


1926 

MILTON  BRADLEY  COMPANY 
SPRINGFIELD,  MASSACHUSETTS 


Copyright  1923 

By  MILTON  BRADLEY  COMPANY 

Springfield,  Massachusetts 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Bradley  Quality  Boohs 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


' ,--v 

4 I-76" 

C/? •-  '•'' 


’"  O C& , 


To 

MARIA 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Jan.  19 — The  Man  in  Gray 1 

Robert  E.  Lee.  United  States 

Feb.  10 — The  Feast  of  Lanterns  ....  22 

China 

Feb.  12 — The  Lawyer  from  the  Middle  West  . 8- 

Abraham  Lincoln.  United  States 

Feb.  11- — The  Good  Saint  Valentine  ...  52 

Feb.  22 — The  Master  of  “Mount  Vernon”  . . 57 

George  Washington.  United  States 

Mar.  3 — The  Children’s  Paradise  ....  80 

Japan 

Mar.  17 — The  Torch  Bearer 98 

St.  Patrick.  Ireland 

Apr.  19 — “To  Arms!  The  Redcoats  Are  Com- 
ing!”   113 

Lexington  and  Concord.  United  States 

May  3 — The  Nation  That  Would  Not  Die  . 134 

Poland’s  Constitution 

May  30 — In  the  Corner  of  a Southern  Church- 
yard   147 

Memorial  Day.  United  States 

July  4 — “We  Must  All  Hang  Together  !”  . . 154 

Declaration  of  Independence. 

United  States 


CONTENTS 

PA«B 

July  6 — An  Emperor’s  Safe-conduct  . . . 174 

Jan  Hus.  Czechoslovakia 

July  14 — Twenty  Minutes  of  Six  . . . .193 

Fall  of  the  Bastille.  France 

July  24 — The  Father  of  Five  Countries  . . 207 

Bolivar.  South  America 

Sept.  13 — The  Vigil  on  the  Cartel  Ship  . . 222 

“The  Star-spangled  Banner’.’ 

United  States 

Sept.  20 — On  the  Janiculum  Hill  ....  236 
Victor  Emmanuel,  Mazzini,  Cavour, 
Garibaldi.  Italy 

Oct.  12 — The  Stranger  in  the  Threadbare 

Cloak  254 

Christopher  Columbus. 

Nov.  5 — The  Man  with  the  Dark  Lantern  . 274 
The  Gunpowder  Plot.  England 

Nov.  — Pewter  Plates  and  Heaping  Platters  293 

Thanksgiving  Day.  United  States 

Dec.  25 — The  Birthday  of  the  King  . . . 305 

Christmas. 

Reading  List 323 

Index 331 


Stories  of  the  World’s 
Holidays 

THE  MAN  IN  GRAY 
t;he  nineteenth  of  januaby 

Was  he  right  or  was  he  wrong? 

The  old  captain  straightened  up  after  plac- 
ing the  wreath  at  the  base  of  the  Lee  statue. 
That  puzzling  question  flashed  into  his  mind 
again.  The  crowd  was  breaking  up  and  leav- 
ing. The  group  of  men  in  gray,  the  Rich- 
mond camp  of  the  United  Confederate 
Veterans,  were  saying  their  goodbyes.  The 
captain  walked  back  a few  steps  and  gazed  up 
at  the  statue. 

Was  he  right  or  was  he  wrong? 

The  last  of  the  old  soldiers  were  hobbling 
over  to  the  street-car.  Fewer  of  them  than 
last  year — the  colonel  sick,  old  Jim  laid  up 
with  rheumatism,  Bill  gone,  Jackson  gone  too. 
He  looked  back  to  the  statue  and  saluted  as 
he  turned  away. 


l 


2 THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


The  spring  of  ’61,  he  thought,  and  its  crisis 
— was  there  ever  such  a tangle  of  duties  and 
loyalties? — such  a criss-cross  of  good  and  evil? 
The  war’s  farther  and  farther  away.  State’s 
rights,  secession  from  the  Union,  slavery, 
things  that  were  all  mixed  up  then  seem 
maybe  clearer  now.  The  whole’s  greater  than 
a part  even  if  that  part’s  the  South — yes,  even 
if  it’s  Virginia.  But  there’s  one  thing  never 
changes — you  don’t  call  it  change  when  it 
gets  deeper  and  stronger — our  love  for  Marse 
Robert. 

Yet  when  a man — not  a youngster  like  us, 
but  an  older,  thoughtful  man  who  was  against 
secession — when  that  man  left  the  Union  be- 
cause Virginia  left  it,  and  served  his  state  so 
loyally — well,  he  was  true  blue — or  true  gray! 
Still — fighting  for  Virginia  was  really  fighting 
for  slavery — 

Was  he  right  or  wrong  after  all?  Who's 
to  say?  Settled  at  last  by  the  fortunes  of  war 
— the  two  flags  flying  side  by  side  in  Rich- 
mond, this  mild  January  day — flying  side  by 
side  all  through  the  South  for  the  birthday  of 
Robert  E.  Lee — stars  and  stripes — stars  and 
bars. 

The  old  man’s  eyes  were  bright  as  he  walked 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


8 


slowly  homeward.  Stars  and  stripes,  he 
thought  again,  stars  and  bars.  He  saw  noth- 
ing of  the  holiday  crowds,  of  the  decorations 
on  every  hand.  He  saw  only  pictures  of  lon^ 
ago — excited  scenes  of  college  students  enlist- 
ing when  word  came  that  Sumter  had  been 
fired  on,  that  two  more  states  had  seceded. 
He  saw  the  stately  portico  of  Arlington  and 
fancied  he  heard  footsteps  up  and  down,  up 
and  down  while  a weighty  decision  was  being 
made.  He  heard  cheering  as  a tall,  fine  figure 
in  gray  on  a gray  horse  came  riding  down  the 
lines. 

Was  he  right  or  was  he  wrong?  No,  he 
couldn’t  have  done  anjdhing  else — how  was  it 
Lincoln  put  it — with  firmness  in  the  right  as 
God  gave  him  to  see  the  right — 

The  captain  turned  in  at  his  own  gate.  On 
the  porch  was  his  young  friend  Randolph  with 
a girl,  a stranger. 

“So  here  we  are,  waiting  for  you  to  tell  us 
the  real  story,  your  own  first-hand  story,”  ex- 
plained the  lad  after  he  had  introduced  his 
guest  from  the  North  and  told  about  her  amaz- 
ing questions  that  morning — why  was  it  a 
holiday?  what  was  that  strange  flag? 

“Sit  here,  Miss  Ellen,”  the  captain  bowed 


4 


THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


in  his  courtly  fashion,  “where  you  can  see  the 
old  flag  and  my  picture  of  Marse  Robert, — 
that’s  what  we  always  called  General  Lee. 
Now  what  shall  I tell  you?  Not  the  history 
of  the  civil  war — you  and  Randolph’d  be 
quicker  with  dates  and  battles  than  an  old 
fellow  like  me.  My  own  story  you  want? 

“No,  I didn’t  get  into  the  army  at  the  start 
— too  young.  All  my  friends  at  college  were 
enlisting — no  debate  in  their  minds.  But 
what  a difficult  decision  it  was  for  Lee!  He 
loved  the  Union,  the  Lees  had  helped  to  make 
it.  He  loved  his  state  Virginia,  his  people  had 
helped  make  that  too.  He  knew  what  war 
was,  shorn  of  its  glamour  and  glory,  for  he 
was  a colonel  in  the  army.  Should  he  stand 
by  the  LTnited  States  or  should  he  go  with 
Virginia?  It  was  a life-and-death  question. 

“Lincoln  had  called  for  volunteers  to 
march  against  the  South.  Virginia  would  be 
the  first  state  to  be  invaded.  If  Lee  remained 
in  the  army  he’d  have  to  fight  against  all  he 
loved  best  in  the  world.  Northern  troops 
coming  to  drive  out  his  own  people  and  de- 
stroy the  country?  He’d  give  his  life  in 
defending  his  home.  He  decided  to  cast  in 
his  lot  with  the  South.” 


LEE  S BIRTHDAY 


5 


“I  remember,”  interrupted  Ellen  excitedly. 
“He  walked  up  and  down  all  night  trying  to 
decide.  They  told  us  when  we  were  in 
Washington  and  went  to  see  Lee’s  old 
home — ” 

“Arlington,”  put  in  Randolph. 

“He  came  downstairs,”  the  captain  went  on 
with  a nod  to  each  of  his  listeners,  “and  said  to 
his  wife,  ‘Well,  Mary,  the  question  is  settled. 
Here  is  my  letter  of  resignation  from  the 
army.’  He  never  wavered.  He  never  after- 
ward debated  the  rightness  of  his  course.  In- 
deed years  later  he  said  firmly  that  he’d  decide 
the  same  way  if  it  were  all  to  do  over. 

“Do  they  tell  you  northern  children,  in  your 
history  class  at  school,  one  thing  that  made  the 
decision  harder — or  would  have  made  it 
harder  for  most  men?  Do  you  know,  Miss 
Ellen,  that  Lincoln  sent  to  Lee  to  offer  him 
the  chief  command  of  the  United  States 
army?  It  was  old  General  Scott,  people 
think,  who  suggested  this  to  Lincoln.  For  he 
admired  Lee  greatly  and  had  praised  his 
splendid  work  in  the  Mexican  war.  Here 
was  a chance  for  an  ambitious  soldier  who  al- 
ready had  to  his  credit  a service  of  more  than 
thirty  years. 


6 


THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


“ ‘No,’  was  his  reply,  ‘if  I owned  a million 
slaves  I would  cheerfully  sacrifice  them  to  the 
preservation  of  the  Union;  but  to  lift  my 
hand  against  my  own  state  and  people  is  im- 
possible. I am  a son  of  Virginia.  I must  do 
as  my  state  does.’ 

“Dazzling  rewards,  his  career,  his  fortune, 
his  home  itself  he  sacrificed.  He  was  too 
wise  not  to  foresee  what  the  war  would  bring. 
He  never  thought  it  would  be  a brief  struggle, 
but  warned  his  wife  it  might  last  ten  years. 
Virginia  would  be  the  scene  of  many  battles. 
Arlington  would  he  taken  by  the  enemy. 

“What  do  they  teach  you  up  there  in  the 
North,”  the  old  man  asked  turning  to  Ellen 
suddenly,  “about  the  causes  of  the  war?” 

“The  civil  war,”  said  the  girl  soberly,  “did 
two  things:  it  freed  the  slaves  and  it  saved  the 
Union.  A lot  of  Northerners  mixed  these 
two  things  up,  but  Lincoln  saw  them  clearly. 
I’ve  often  heard  my  great-uncles  talk  about 
it.  One  of  them  enlisted  because  he  was  an 
abolitionist,  the  other  volunteered  to  help 
save  the  Union.  Don’t  you  remember  that 
speech  of  Lincoln’s? 

“ ‘If  I could  save  the  Union  without  freeing  any 
slaves,  I would  do  it.  And  if  I could  save  it  by 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


7 


freeing  some  and  leaving  others  alone,  I would  also 
do  that.  My  paramount  object  is  to  save  the 
Union,  and  not  either  to  save  or  destroy  slavery.’  ” 

“M — m,”  said  the  captain  smiling,  “then 
the  North  didn’t  fight  to  free  the  slaves? 
Well,  neither  were  we  fighting  for  slavery. 
Many  of  us  thought  slavery  wrong,  and  that 
it  hurt  the  whites  more  than  the  blacks — Lee 
said  that  himself.  He  had  freed  his  own 
slaves  and  those  that  belonged  to  his  wife  were 
to  be  freed  in  ’62  according  to  her  father’s 
will.  But  the  slaves  that  Mrs.  Grant  in- 
herited were  slaves  till  the  emancipation  proc- 
lamation ! 

“Why,  Miss  Ellen,  a good  many  soldiers  in 
our  army  owned  no  slaves.  Could  a cause  like 
slavery  be  incentive  enough  to  make  us  march 
and  fight  and  starve  for  four  years?  Could 
such  a cause  take  an  army  through  the  hungry 
winter  of  ’64?  Could  it  be  enough  to  call  out 
the  devotion  and  patient  endurance  and  splen- 
did heroism  that  were  Lee’s  and  that  he  passed 
on  to  his  men? 

“No,  no,  we  weren’t  fighting  for  slavery. 
We  fought  to  preserve  the  right  of  each  state 
to  govern  itself  with  no  federal  interference. 
We  fought  because  Virginia  was  invaded. 


8 


THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


We  fought  on  our  own  soil  for  our  homes. 
And  that  was  a holy  cause,  dearer  to  us  than 
life.” 

Ellen’s  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  old 
captain  who  looked  fixedly  at  the  photograph 
of  Lee.  She  saw  his  hand  reach  out  to  touch 
the  faded  stars  and  bars,  the  flag  that  was  so 
unfamiliar  to  her  northern  eyes,  the  flag  that 
had  stood  for  so  much  to  the  South. 

“It’s  the  same  devotion,  the  same  loyalty  to 
the  flag,”  she  thought  recalling  the  look  on 
her  great-grandfather’s  face  as  he  had  talked 
to  her  about  the  war  and  Lincoln.  “Well, 
neither  side  can  claim  a monopoly  of  courage 
and  devotion.  North  and  South,  the  best  and 
the  bravest  were  fighting.  No  wonder  it  took 
four  long  years  to  win,  with  such  a foe!” 

“I  joined  in  May  of  ’62,”  the  captain  went 
on,  “so  my  service  in  the  army  of  Virginia 
was  exactly  the  same  as  Marse  Robert’s. 
That  first  year  he  was  in  Richmond  organiz- 
ing our  troops,  then  military  adviser  to 
President  Davis.” 

“Jeff  Davis?”  asked  Ellen  in  a puzzled 
voice.  “Hang  Jeff  Davis  to  a — ” She  won- 
dered why  Randolph  nudged  her. 

“Then  they  gave  him  the  army  of  northern 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


9 


Virginia.  Lee  was — how  many  years  old 
then?  Right,  fifty-five,  with  a splendid 
record  behind  him.  My  uncle  had  been  in  his 
regiment  in  the  Mexican  war  and  used  to  tell 
us  about  him.  And  one  of  our  neighbors  was 
in  the  squad  of  marines  that  went  with  him 
to  Harper’s  Ferry  to  capture  John  Brown. 

“Ah,  that  brings  a flash  across  your  face, 
Miss  Ellen.  I suppose  today  the  North  feels 
about  that  raid  much  as  we  do — that  it  was  a 
wild,  crazy  scheme,  sure  to  fail  or  sure  to  cause 
endless  trouble?  The  southern  states  were  all 
excited  over  John  Brown’s  attempt  to  rouse 
the  slaves  to  revolt.  But  you  made  a martyr 
of  him  in  the  North.  Just  his  name  in  the 
song  was  enough  to  stir  your  men. 

“From  ’62  to  Appomattox  my  cousins  and 
I served  under  Marse  Robert.  There  never 
was  such  an  army — Lee  himself  said  so.  You 
won’t  think  this  is  idle  boasting?  Well,  if  it 
is,  forgive  an  old  man,  my  dear.  The  army 
of  northern  Virginia  was  the  flower  of  the 
South,  with  regiments  and  divisions  from  all 
the  eleven  seceding  states.  A big  proportion 
was  young  men  of  high  culture  and  learning. 
I remember  once,  for  a bit  of  fun,  our 
company  had  a solemn  burial  for  our  mascot, 


10  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


a tame  crow.  Resides  speeches  in  English  we 
had  a Latin  oration  and  an  ode  in  Greek. 

“We  weren’t  soldiers  of  fortune,  but  sol- 
diers of  duty.  The  men  were  cheerful  and  un- 
complaining, even  when  things  were  getting 
worse  and  worse.  We  weren’t  in  the  war  for 
any  reward.  Do  you  call  it  pay — eleven 
dollars  a month,  in  Confederate  money?  Do 
you  call  it  a fine  bill  of  fare,  the  flour  and 
bacon  and  peanut  coffee  we  had?  There 
were  no  decorations  to  strive  for — no  Victoria 
Cross,  no  promotions  given  on  the  field  for 
special  acts  of  valor.  We  had  just  the  cause 
of  the  South.  We  had  just  that  one  badge — 
the  gray  uniform  that  gradually  faded  to 
butternut  brown.  This  fine  gray  one,  Miss 
Ellen,  I keep  for  special  occasions — today 
and  Memorial  Days  and  reunions. 

“But  what  made  the  army  was  our  leader. 
Never  did  soldiers  have  such  a general,  never 
in  all  the  world.  The  North  had  more  men 
and  more  money.  But  for  a long  time  they 
had  no  general  so  able  as  Lee.  He  was  like 
Washington,  great  in  planning  attacks,  dar- 
ing in  his  strategy  and  as  daring  in  carrying 
out  his  plans. 

“Only  think  how  he  raised  the  siege  of 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


11 


Richmond  in  the  Seven  Days’  Battles,  and 
won  at  Manassas — the  second  battle  of  Bull 
Run  you  call  it,”  the  captain  explained 
seeing  the  perplexed  look  on  Ellen’s  face. 
“And  what  he  did  at  Sharp  sburg — I believe 
the  North  called  it  Antietam — and  at  Chancel- 
lorsville,  the  most  brilliant  of  his  achieve- 
ments, when  he  used  two-thirds  of  his  men  in 
a flank  march  splendidly  carried  out  by 
Stonewall  Jackson,  and  faced  that  great  army 
of  Hooker’s  with  one  man  to  five.  And  the 
three  days’  fighting  at  Gettysburg,  that 
marked  the  turn  of  the  tide. 

“Funny  how  we  happened  to  fight  at 
Gettysburg,  wasn’t  it?  You  see,  Miss  Ellen, 
we  all  needed  new  shoes  and  when  we  got  up 
into  southern  Pennsylvania  we  heard  there 
were  shoes  at  Gettysburg.  There  we  found 
the  enemy  and  attacked  before  all  their  men 
could  come  up.  No  wonder  the  battle  took 
three  days,  for  the  Yanks  kept  coming  and 
coming,  some  of  them  from  thirty-six  miles 
away. 

“In  all  history  is  there  a more  daring  enter- 
prise than  Pickett’s  charge  ? For  numbers  and 
distance  the  famous  Light  Brigade  doesn’t 
compare  with  it.  A full  half-mile  we  went 


12  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


across  that  plain  and  up  the  flaming  slopes  of 
Cemetery  Ridge.  Oh,  it  was  a great  assault 
and  ought  to  have  succeeded.  For  the  north- 
ern army  had  had  severe  losses  those  three 
days.  Their  morale  was  low.  If  Lee’s 
orders  had  been  carried  out  promptly  and 
exactly  and  if  Longstreet’s  divisions  had  sup- 
ported Pickett,  we’d  have  cut  the  Yanks  in 
two  and  driven  them  from  the  field. 

“A  few  years  ago  when  the  G.A.R.  had  a 
joint  reunion  with  our  U.C.Y.  I happened  to 
meet  two  men  who’d  been  on  Cemetery  Ridge 
that  day,  waiting  to  receive  us.  They  told  me 
they  were  out  of  ammunition  and  if  the  charge 
had  been  followed  up,  they’d  have  retreated  in 
five  minutes  more.  Why,  their  generals 
didn’t  know  they’d  won  a victory  and  reported 
to  Lincoln  only  that  Lee’s  invasion  was 
stopped. 

“Twelve  thousand  of  us  started  across. 
Shells  hissed  over  us.  Shot  tore  through 
us.  Right  and  left  men  fell  and  the  ranks 
thinned.  But  we  pressed  on,  reached  the  foot 
of  the  hill  and  swarmed  up  it  for  a furious 
conflict  with  its  defenders.  We  actually 
planted  our  flags  on  the  crest  of  Cemetery 
Ridge.  Then  slowly,  sullenly  we  rolled  back 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


13 


across  that  blood-soaked  plain  among  the 
heaps  of  dead.  Gettysburg  was  over. 

‘'Our  shattered  remnants  straggled  along 
in  disorder.  And  there  waiting  for  us,  ready 
with  a word  of  sympathy  and  encouragement 
was  Marse  Robert  on  the  old  gray  horse 
Traveler  that  we  all  knew  so  well. 

“ ‘Rally  to  your  colors,’  he  called  out.  ‘All 
this  will  come  right  in  the  end.  We’ll  talk  of 
it  afterwards.  Now  rally!’ 

“He  had  not  a word  of  reproach  for  Long- 
street.  He  took  on  his  own  shoulders  the 
whole  responsibility,  the  whole  blame  of  the 
defeat.  But  our  men  were  not  so  unselfish, 
not  so  charitable.  On  the  march  south  they 
grumbled  against  Longstreet  and  threatened 
to  hang  him.  And  notice  this:  if  the  Yanks 
thought  Gettysburg  a great  victory  they  let 
us  retreat  unmolested  and  it  was  months 
before  they  attacked  us  again. 

“Like  Washington  too  Lee  was  a master  in 
defensive  warfare.  He  used  the  shield  as 
skilfully  as  the  sword.  Look  at  Fredericks- 
burg, at  the  long  Wilderness  campaign  and 
the  siege  of  Petersburg,  the  tragic  retreat  of 
that  last  April. 

“See  what  he  had  to  contend  with — num- 


14  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


bers  against  him  greater  than  Napoleon  faced 
at  Waterloo.  With  slow,  steady,  iron  fist 
Grant  hammered  his  way  onward.  But  he 
had  back  of  him  all  the  men  he  asked  for.  He 
had  supplies  without  limit — food  and  clothes, 
ammunition  and  muskets. 

“What  did  Marse  Robert  have?  A weather- 
beaten army  that  was  half  shod,  half  fed,  half 
clothed.  A bankrupt  country  that  had  given 
all  her  men — her  younger  men  and  her  older 
men,  sixteen  to  sixty,  till  President  Davis 
said  they  were  using  up  their  seedcorn  and 
robbing  both  the  cradle  and  the  grave.  There 
were  no  new  recruits  to  throw  into  battle. 

“The  blockade  was  like  a boa-constrictor 
whose  coils  grew  tighter  and  tighter.  The 
whole  South  was  suffering  privations  and 
hardships.  Once  Marse  Robert  sent  a special 
present  to  his  wife — one  nearly  dried-up 
lemon ! If  we  fought  General  Grant  in  front 
of  us,  we  were  also  fighting  General  Want 
in  our  rear.  The  other  confederate  states 
could  not  help  us  in  Virginia.  Vicksburg 
fell.  The  Mississippi  was  open  to  the  sea. 
Sherman  marched  across  Georgia.  The 
Yanks  came  up  into  the  Carolinas. 

“The  South  was  not  a manufacturing 


LEE  S BIRTHDAY 


15 


country  and  could  not  make  what  our  armies 
needed.  We  could  not  sell  our  tobacco  and 
cotton  in  Europe  and  then  buy  overseas.  No, 
I don’t  think  it  was  better  generalship  that 
won  the  war  for  the  North — not  Grant’s  iron 
will  or  Sherman’s  strategy.  It  was  the 
blockade  that  did  it.  You  won  because  we 
were  exhausted. 

“Often  half  our  men,  and  at  the  end  two- 
thirds  of  us  were  armed  with  sabers  we  took 
from  the  enemy.  Was  it  an  equal  fight,”  he 
turned  suddenly  to  Ellen,  “when  your  men 
fired  their  Spencer  rifles  seven  times  without 
reloading,  and  we  with  the  old  Sharp’s  musket 
fired  once  and  lowered  it  to  put  in  the  next 
cartridge?  When  your  sappers  and  miners 
did  such  rapid  night  work  after  the  first  day  at 
Gettysburg,  while  we  had  to  throw  up  breast- 
works with  our  bayonets  because  spades  were 
luxuries  ? 

“Our  gray  uniforms  were  woven  on  planta- 
tion looms.  Our  cannon  were  mounted  on 
farm  wagons.  Our  swords  were  made  at  cross- 
road forges.  So  empty  was  the  countryside 
that  we  thought  ourselves  well  off  when  we 
found  a corncrib  with  some  grain  left  in  it,  and 
had  parched  corn  to  munch  as  we  marched 


16  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


along.  More  than  once  I had  to  post  a guard 
where  the  artillery  horses  were  fed,  to  prevent 
the  soldiers  from  taking  their  corn.  Yet  we 
kept  on  with  unwavering  courage  because  we 
had  faith  in  Marse  Robert. 

“The  end  came  at  last.  Nothing  but  use- 
less loss  of  life  could  result  if  the  struggle 
was  continued.  At  Appomattox  Lee  agreed 
to  Grant’s  generous  terms  of  surrender. 
How  glad  we  were  to  get  those  northern  ra- 
tions! Go  over  to  the  desk,  Randolph,  and 
bring  me  that  box  in  the  second  drawer.  Yes, 
that’s  it,  the  little  pill-box. 

“Here,  Miss  Ellen,  is  the  rations  our 
quartermaster  gave  us  that  last  morning  at 
Appomattox.  I saved  mine  as  a souvenir. 
Open  the  box  and  look.” 

Ellen  took  off  the  lid,  her  eyes  big  with 
amazement.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five 
grains  of  corn  and  one,  two,  three  coffee  beans. 
That  was  a day’s  food  for  a soldier  in  gray. 

“What  a picture  they  made,”  the  captain 
went  on,  “Marse  Robert  in  full  uniform,  with 
sword  and  sash,  and  Grant  with  his  boots  spat- 
tered all  over  with  mud,  dressed  in  a private’s 
blouse  and  only  his  shoulder-straps  to  show  his 
rank.  Lest  Lee  might  think  his  careless 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


17 


dress  a discourtesy  he  took  pains  to  explain 
that  he’d  been  without  his  luggage  for  four 
days. 

“Marse  Robert  came  out  of  the  McLean 
house  and  paused  a moment,  his  eyes  resting 
on  the  Virginia  hills.  Then  mounting  on  old 
Traveler  he  rode  down  the  lane.  Somehow 
news  of  what  was  happening  had  got  abroad. 
We  were  all  waiting  on  the  hillside.  When 
he  came  in  sight  we  were  up  around  him  in 
an  instant.  Bareheaded,  with  our  faces  wet 
with  tears,  we  thronged  around  our  general. 
Some  of  the  soldiers  kissed  his  hand.  They 
sobbed  like  children  and  cheered  as  they  wept. 
To  the  very  skies  they  shouted  his  name  again 
and  again. 

“ ‘Men,’  said  Marse  Robert,  his  voice 
quivering  with  emotion,  ‘we’ve  fought  through 
the  war  together.  I have  done  my  best  for 
you.  My  heart  is  too  full  to  say  more.’ 

“Far  over  the  hills  our  cheering  was  heard. 
The  Yanks  thought  we  were  rejoicing  over 
the  surrender  and  the  end  of  the  war.  Ho,  the 
cheers  were  for  Marse  Robert  who  had  surren- 
dered our  muskets,  but  still  commanded  our 
hearts. 

“Appomattox  is  the  end  of  Lee’s  story,  I 


18  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


suppose,  for  you  children  in  the  North?  A 
conquered  chieftain,  he  came  back  to  Rich- 
mond, to  the  house  on  Franklin  Street.” 

“You  remember,  Ellen,  where  we  went  to 
the  Virginia  Historical  Society?”  put  in 
Randolph. 

“But  even  in  defeat  and  failure  Lee  reigned 
in  the  hearts  of  the  southern  people.  He  was 
still  the  leader.  More  than  he  did  for  the 
South  during  the  war,  he  did  during  the  next 
five  years.  For  the  conflict  was  not  over. 
Instead  of  battles  there  was  Reconstruction. 
We  must  fight  not  with  muskets,  but  with 
patience  and  self-control. 

“How  could  Lee  best  serve  his  country? 
Live  in  peace  on  the  beautiful  estate  in 
England  which  was  offered  him?  The  South 
needed  all  her  sons.  Accept  a position  in 
business  with  a big  salary?  But  he  knew 
nothing  of  life  insurance.  Never  mind,  it  was 
enough  that  the  company  could  use  his  name. 
‘But  gentlemen,’  he  replied,  ‘if  it  is  worth 
fifty  thousand  dollars  a year,  don’t  you  think 
I ought  to  take  good  care  of  it?  My  name  is 
not  for  sale.’ 

“In  the  little  town  of  Lexington  in  the 
Shenandoah  Valley  he  served  as  president  of 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY 


19 


Washington  College — today  we  call  it  Wash- 
ington and  Lee.  He  was  not  a figurehead, 
but  the  active  ruling  spirit.  The  rest  of  his 
life  he  gave  to  train  the  young  men  of  the 
South,  sending  them  out  prepared  to  help  in 
building  up  her  waste  places. 

“With  the  same  zeal  he  had  shown  in  creat- 
ing an  army,  a nation,  Lee  threw  himself  into 
the  task  of  building  up  a small  and  struggling 
college.  What  counted  most  was  his  per- 
sonal influence  with  the  students.  Indeed  he 
was  creating  a nation  still.  His  own  courage 
and  patience,  his  forgiveness,  his  hope  for  the 
future,  he  passed  on  to  the  eager  young  people 
about  him  and  through  them  to  all  the  South, 
sorely  in  need  of  these  things. 

“Lincoln  would  have  done  much  to  bring 
the  seceding  states  back  to  their  early  loyalty 
to  the  Union.  His  death  left  it  for  Lee  to  do. 
The  people  must  be  reconciled  to  the  results 
of  the  war.  They  must  forget  their  dream  of 
a Confederacy  and  be  cheerfully  loyal  to  a 
reunited  country.  To  set  an  example,  he  was 
among  the  first  to  apply  for  pardon  from  the 
federal  government.  No  other  man  could 
have  brought  about  such  a prompt  acceptance 
of  the  final  judgment. 


20  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


“A  private  in  our  camp  here  in  Richmond 
told  his  colonel  that  he  had  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  United  States. 

“ ‘You’ve  disgraced  your  family!’ 

“ ‘But  General  Lee  told  me  to  do  it,  sir.’ 

“ ‘Oh,  that  alters  the  case.  Whatever  he 
says  is  all  right,  I don’t  care  what  it  is.’ 

“Against  the  North  Marse  Robert  showed 
no  trace  of  bitterness  or  resentment.  In  those 
five  years  there’s  not  one  word  or  act  that  his 
most  devoted  friends  would  wish  to  strike 
from  the  record  though  he  was  refused  am- 
nesty, though  he  was  indicted  for  treason, 
though  he  was  disenfranchised  and  was,  till  a 
year  before  his  death,  a man  without  a 
country. 

“ ‘A  poor  old  Confederate,’  Lee  described 
himself  and  marveled  when  the  people  re- 
ceived him  everywhere  with  ovations  and 
crowded  around  him  to  do  him  honor.  ‘Marse 
Robert’  they  called  him  lovingly.  What 
other  general  famous  in  history  can  boast  such 
a title?” 

The  captain  ceased.  Again  his  hand 
reached  out  toward  the  faded  stars  and  bars. 
He  gazed  intently  at  the  autographed  picture 
of  Lee. 


LEE’S  BIRTHDAY  21 

Ellen  looked  up  with  eyes  suspiciously 
bright. 

“You  mustn’t  think,”  she  said,  “that  we 
don’t  honor  him  too.  If  you  could  only  have 
heard  the  applause  when  Lee  walked  on  to 
the  stage  in  the  play  Abraham  Lincoln!  You 
remember  how  just  after  Appomattox  a 
crowd  of  Washington  people  gathered  in 
front  of  the  White  House  to  serenade  the 
president  and  Lincoln  made  them  a speech  re- 
joicing that  the  war  was  over  and  then  turned 
to  the  band  and  called  out,  ‘Play  Dixie! 
We’ve  a right  to  it  now!’  Well,  it’s  the  same 
with  Robert  E.  Lee.  Here  in  Richmond  you 
say  Lee  the  Virginian.  All  through  the 
South  they  say  Lee  the  Confederate  general. 
Why  don’t  we  all  call  him  Lee  the  American?” 


THE  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS  1 


THE  TENTH  OF  FEBRUARY 

Very,  very  early  this  morning  Wang  Tzu 
and  her  sister  wakened.  Noiselessly  they 
slipped  out  of  the  women’s  quarters  with  their 
mother.  Dawn  had  not  yet  touched  the  sky 
with  rose  and  gold.  Tzu  shivered  as  they 
hurried  to  the  temple  to  pray. 

When  the  old  sundial  warned  them  that 
eight  o’clock  was  near  they  flitted  back  from 
prayers  to  rice.  For  after  that  hour  the  men 
wrould  seek  the  gods  with  gifts  of  lotus 
flowers. 

Today  Wang  Tzu  is  wearing  her  best  robe 
of  violet  satin  embroidered  with  lemon  chry- 
santhemums. It  is  slashed  open  above  a 
vest  and  trousers  of  delicate  green  tied  with 
silver  cords,  each  ending  in  a pearl. 

i The  “Feast  of  Lanterns”  is  a movable  holiday  like  our 
Easter  or  the  Jewish  new  year.  Books  of  travel  vary  greatly 
in  giving  its  date,  but  it  is  always  in  February.  It  is  the 
fifteenth  of  the  first  month  of  the  old  Chinese  calendar. 

22 


CHINA 


23 


She  glances  up  at  her  mother.  How  she 
sways  on  her  tiny  feet,  like  a lily  in  the  wind! 
How  lovely  her  new  robe  is — brocade  of  jade 
green  with  dark  blue  flower-shaped  em- 
broidery, over  trousers  of  orange  silk! 

Over  the  whole  house,  over  all  the  court- 
yards where  live  Tzu’s  uncles  and  cousins 
there  is  today  a hum  of  merriment.  Every 
one  is  glad  and  gay.  For  of  all  the  many 
holidays  in  China,  this  is  the  one  most  loved, 
the  day  when  the  spirits  of  the  dead  return. 

“Remember,”  says  the  grandmother,  “they 
are  here  threading  their  kindly,  silent  way 
through  the  crowd.  They  are  watching  and 
enjoying  everything.” 

In  the  grass  and  in  the  garden  paths 
bundles  of  joss  sticks  are  burning.  Little 
hills  of  white  ash  heap  up  as  the  children  slip 
in  fresh  bundles  before  the  first  ones  go  out. 
Incense  burns  for  the  honored  guests,  for  no 
unpleasant  smell  must  offend  their  nostrils. 
F or  them  the  fire-crackers  crackle  out  in  great 
bursts  and  the  drums  beat  and  rattle  to  scare 
away  the  devils,  lest  they  injure  or  annoy  the 
Wang  ancestors. 

For  days  and  weeks  Tzu’s  grandmother  has 
been  preparing  for  this  festival.  She  sent  the 


24  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


servants  to  the  lantern  shops.  Lanterns 
shaped  like  animals,  like  men,  like  ships  they 
chose,  such  fragile  things. 

“The  place  was  so  crowded,”  Sun  Moy  de- 
scribed it  to  the  two  girls,  “it  was  hard  to  get 
out  without  crushing  my  purchases.  So  I 
hoisted  them  on  a bamboo  pole  and  squeezed 
my  way  through.  Time  after  time  I did  so, 
for  I bought  more  than  two  hundred.  A 
splendid  feast  we  shall  have  this  year !” 

For  days  too  the  kitchens  have  buzzed  as  the 
cooks  made  sweetmeats  for  this  holiday. 
There  are  flat,  round,  crisp  mooncakes 
sweetened  with  honey. 

“Mountains  of  them!”  is  Tzu’s  description 
when  she  stops  trying  to  count  them.  “They’re 
heaped  up  in  thousands  on  grandmother’s 
lacquer  trays.  I can’t  miss  the  first  batch 
that  Mother  gave  to  the  greedy  kitchen  gods 
licking  their  fat  lips  so  hungrily:  that  was  to 
make  sure  that  the  rest  will  not  be  tough.” 

With  the  mooncakes  were  made  the  small 
balls  of  mincemeat  covered  with  sugar.  As 
round  as  a billiard  ball  they  are  and  about  two- 
thirds  as  large.  A perfect,  snowy  white  they 
must  be,  and  made  with  the  greatest  care,  for 
they  are  a part  of  the  ceremony.  And  when 


CHINA 


25 


the  feast  day  comes  every  household  eats  them 
in  unbelievable  quantities. 

Yesterday  every  one — mothers  and  children 
and  servants— helped  string  the  lanterns  like 
garlands  from  tree  to  tree.  Criss-cross  they 
go  in  every  courtyard,  till  Tzu  declares  her 
grandmother  owns  miles  of  lanterns.  There 
are  all  the  new  ones  Sun  Moy  brought  from 
the  city  shops.  There  are  some  that  are  heir- 
looms. 

“Why  do  you  keep  them  put  away  with 
your  jades  and  bronze,  Grandmother?”  Tzu 
asked  as  one  after  another  the  delicate  things 
of  gauze  and  jewels  were  brought  out. 

“Why  not?”  was  the  answer.  “They  are 
almost  as  valuable.” 

Inside  a Chinese  house  one  thing  of  beauty 
never  jostles  against  another.  One  flower  in 
a fine  vase  and  the  room  is  adorned.  But 
outside  for  this  feast  of  lanterns  there  is  the 
most  lavish  decoration.  Every  tree,  every 
shrub,  every  bridge,  every  point  from  which 
something  can  hang  is  trimmed  with  streamers, 
with  artificial  flowers,  with  strings  of  gilt,  with 
festoons  of  lanterns.  The  whole  place  throbs 
with  color,  for  the  Chinese  love  bright  hues 
and  have  wonderful  skill  in  combining  them. 


26  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Wherever  she  looks  Tzu’s  eyes  see  lanterns. 
They  decorate  a carved  stone  seat.  They 
trim  a pretty  balcony.  They  hang  from  the 
fantastic  railing  of  a garden  bridge.  Lan- 
terns, lanterns  everywhere! 

Only  one  spot  is  without  them — the  silk- 
worm houses.  The  light  and  the  heat  of  the 
candles  might  creep  in  and  harm  the  delicate 
worms.  Instead  the  houses  are  trimmed  with 
rich  scented  flowers,  for  silkworms  love  sweet 
fragrance  and  are  nourished  by  it.  And  at 
night  the  fireflies  will  hang  their  jeweled 
lights  about  the  thatched  houses  and  make  a 
break  in  the  wilderness  of  lamps. 

The  whole  day  is  one  long  holiday  packed 
with  pleasure.  There  are  sports  to  watch — 
juggling  and  wrestling.  There  are  a pageant 
and  a play,  given  by  actors  from  a city  theater. 
And  all  the  time  children  and  grownups 
alike  munch  their  mincemeat  balls. 

For  the  little  folks  there  are  gay  balloons. 
Some  are  tied  to  the  glass  bracelets  on  their 
wrists.  Some  are  held  by  strings  in  little 
yellow  hands.  Some  Ting  and  Tzu  set  free. 
From  these  balls  filled  with  gas  hang  delicate 
little  chimes  of  bells  whose  soft  music  tinkles 
down  between  the  crackling  of  the  fireworks. 


CHINA 


27 


But  now  twilight  is  coming.  The  great 
throbbing  hour  of  all  the  festival  is  at  hand — 
the  procession  of  lanterns.  Tzu  looks  up  at 
the  sky,  a velvet  blue  powdered  with  brilliant 
stars.  She  watches  the  servants  lighting  all 
the  lanterns  in  the  courtyard.  “Criss-cross, 
criss-cross  for  miles!”  she  repeats  to  herself. 
From  every  bough  of  every  tree  in  the  garden 
lanterns  hang  that  the  spirits  moving  about 
their  old  homes  may  have  light  to  see. 

It  is  time  for  the  procession  to  start. 

“How  gaily  dressed  the  bearers  are!”  Tzu 
says  to  her  grandmother.  “But  why  are  their 
faces  all  so  serious  and  grave?” 

“It  is  a solemn  festival,  child.  They  know 
the  meaning  of  their  task.  But  hush  now, 
they  are  coming  into  sight.” 

F rom  the  great  gates  at  the  entrance  of  the 
estate  the  procession  of  lanterns  slowly 
approaches.  First  is  a group  of  little  boys 
each  carrying  two  swaying,  gauzy  lamps  filled 
with  the  incense  of  burning  sandalwood. 
Then  a long  line  of  older  boys.  In  twos,  in 
threes,  in  wide  ranks  they  come.  Here  one 
walks  alone  to  show  the  beauty  of  some  rare 
lantern. 

How  beautiful  they  are!  How  odd!  No 


28  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


two  alike!  In  all  of  China  no  flower  grows 
that  is  not  shown  here.  Every  fruit  is  pic- 
tured, every  jewel  cut  into  some  exquisite 
shape.  Some  lanterns  are  painted,  some  are 
wonderfully  embroidered.  It  takes  an  artist 
a year  to  decorate  one  of  them.  For  all  their 
fragile  surface  some  are  so  heavy  that  they  are 
slung  on  stout  bamboo  poles  resting  on  the 
shoulders  of  two  men. 

Who  could  describe  all  the  lanterns  in  this 
procession  to  honor  the  spirits  of  the  dead? 
There  are  birds  and  gilded  fish,  beasts  from 
the  jungle,  tame  farm  animals.  There  are 
squirrels  and  cranes,  ducks  and  eagles  and  pea- 
cocks. There  are  orange  buds  and  flowers, 
wistaria  and  cacti,  clusters  of  grapes  and  snow- 
capped mountains  in  red  eruption.  There  are 
warships  and  barges  of  state.  There  are  tem- 
ples and  gods  and  dancing  girls  and  mandarins 
and  babies  in  their  tall  cradles.  And  every 
lantern  is  brilliant  with  rich  colors. 

“Oh,  oh!  See  that  lovely  tulip!”  cries  out 
Tzu. 

“And  the  chrysanthemum  just  behind  it!” 
exclaims  her  sister. 

“There  comes  the  larkspur — blue  and  rose. 
And  the  little  humming  birds!” 


CHINA 


29 


Most  of  the  time  the  children  watch  quietly, 
breathlessly.  But  when  Tzu  sees  a marvelous 
lantern  shifting  to  another  shape  at  a slight 
touch  of  wind  she  whispers  to  her  grand- 
mother, “Look,  look!  How  is  it  made — that 
rose  changing  to  a rose-pink  gull?  What 
skill  it  must  take!” 

Before  her  very  eyes  the  red  tulip  changes 
to  a cluster  of  cherries  dangling  just  out  of 
reach.  The  gentian  becomes  a bird  in  flight. 
The  kittens  play  with  a ball. 

Such  marvels  of  lanterns!  Some  roll 
along  on  the  ground  and  yet  keep  lighted. 
Some  gallop  like  a horse.  Some  whirl  like  a 
top.  There  are  ships  that  sail.  There  are 
soldiers  that  march. 

In  silence  the  children  and  the  grownups 
look  on.  When  some  lantern  of  special 
beauty  passes  they  give  a great  sigh  of  pleas- 
ure. For  all  the  noise  of  fire-crackers  and 
drums,  it  has  been  a day  of  solemn  courtesy  to 
welcome  the  homecoming  of  the  dead. 

For  more  than  two  thousand  years  this 
feast  of  lanterns  has  been  celebrated  in  China. 
When  the  moon  was  at  the  first  full  round  of 
the  year  the  devout  Chinese  used  to  pray  and 
sacrifice — a formal  rite  of  worship  in  the  tern- 


30  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


pie.  After  eight  hundred  years  the  lanterns 
were  added.  Gradually  the  day  changed  from 
a strict  religious  beginning  to  this  home  festi- 
val. 

Suddenly  the  silence  is  broken.  Among  the 
children  there  is  a happy  whispering. 

“The  dragon!  The  dragon  is  coming!” 

Dragons  have  already  passed,  to  be  sure, 
along  with  waxen  lilies  and  scarlet  trumpet 
flowers.  But  this  is  the  great  dragon.  To 
announce  its  approach  boys  let  loose  hundreds 
of  balloons  coated  with  phosphorus.  The 
darkness  of  the  night  is  radiant  with  light. 

Forty,  fifty,  sometimes  a hundred  men 
carry  the  dragon.  They  are  clad  in  gray  to 
show  as  little  as  possible.  The  splendid,  ter- 
rible monster  seems  to  move  along  without 
their  help.  He’s  a gorgeous  beast,  horned 
and  scaly,  with  painted  sides. 

Every  few  minutes  he  turns  his  awful  head. 
He  opens  wide  his  terrible  jaws  and  breathes 
out  a soft  mist  of  perfume.  And  with  the 
rain  of  scent  shower  down  the  writhing 
monster’s  gifts — sweetmeats  and  little  mas- 
cots made  of  twisted  jade,  that  bring  good  luck 
to  the  recipient. 

Slowly  the  dragon  passes  on  its  long,  fiery 


CHINA 


31 


way.  Then  comes  a band  of  little  girls  sing- 
ing a goodnight  hymn.  The  feast  of  lanterns 
is  ended. 

“Ah,  it’s  over,”  Tzu  says  to  herself  half 
sighing.  “This  is  the  end  of  our  three  weeks 
of  holidays.  Tomorrow  lessons  begin  again 
— school  seven  days  a week  till  next  New 
Year’s.  But  the  feast  of  lanterns — each  time 
this  beauty-keeping  festival  is  richer  and  love- 
lier than  before.  It’s  our  offering  to  the  spirit 
of  our  ancestors.  It  is  the  very  soul  of  China !” 


THE  LAWYER  FROM  THE 
MIDDLE  WEST 


THE  TWELFTH  OF  FEBRUARY 

“How  did  you  happen  to  come  to  Amer- 
ica?” 

“Ah,”  is  the  eager  reply  from  Italian  or 
Pole  or  Russian,  “I  heard  of  your  Lincoln. 
So  I come  to  his  country.” 

“What  biography  is  most  asked  for  by 
your  boys  and  girls?” 

“Lincoln’s,”  promptly  says  the  librarian  in 
the  children’s  room.  “That  shelf  is  always 
empty.  One  lad  recommends  his  life  to  an- 
other with  the  comment,  ‘This  is  a great  book! 
Why,  he  was  one  of  us — a great  man,  but  like 
us!’  ” 

In  the  history  of  notable  men  the  world 
over  there’s  nothing  to  equal  the  growth  of 
Abraham  Lincoln’s  fame.  But  in  February 
of  1809  who  would  have  guessed  that  the  baby 
in  that  one-roomed  log  cabin  in  Kentucky 
would  have  his  birthday  celebrated  every- 

32 


LINCOLN’S  BIRTHDAY 


33 


where?  Who  would  have  foretold  greatness 
and  fame  for  a boy  whose  father  could  not 
read  or  write,  who  was  poor  and  shiftless,  rest- 
lessly moving  from  one  place  to  another  and 
dropping  a little  lower  with  each  move? 

Who  would  have  said  there  was  much  of  a 
future  for  a lad  who  for  nine  years  went  to 
school  whenever  there  was  a school  to  go  to, 
but  not  twelve  months  in  all?  Yet  at  seven- 
teen Abraham  Lincoln  had  learned  to  read 
and  to  read  well,  to  write  a clear  hand,  and  to 
solve  problems  in  arithmetic  not  going  be- 
yond the  “rule  of  three.”  With  this  meager 
foundation  he  kept  on  studying  and  pulled 
himself  out  of  ignorance,  as  he  put  it,  by  his 
own  bootstraps. 

In  that  household  pinched  by  poverty  can- 
dles were  a great  luxury.  By  the  flickering 
glow  of  the  fire  the  boy  worked  his  sums  using 
a wooden  shovel  for  a slate  and  a bit  of  char- 
coal for  pencil.  When  the  shovel  was  covered 
with  figures  he  shaved  it  off  and  began  again. 

Lying  on  the  floor  with  a blazing  pine  knot 
for  his  light  he  read  eagerly,  hungrily.  The 
six  books  he  owned  he  devoured  over  and  over 
and  over — ADsop’s  Fables , Pilgrim’s  Progress, 
Robinson  Crusoe,  Plutarch’s  Lives,  Euclid 


84  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


and  the  Bible.  He  read  all  the  books  he 
could  beg  or  borrow,  no  matter  if  securing  one 
meant  a walk  of  twenty  miles  and  back.  He 
read  at  night  after  long  hours  of  work.  He 
read  every  spare  minute  during  the  busy  day, 
while  he  walked  down  the  road,  while  he  rested 
his  horses  at  the  end  of  a long  furrow. 

“What  are  you  reading,  Abe?”  a farmer 
asked  the  lanky  boy  cocked  up  on  a haystack 
with  a book. 

“I’m  not  reading,  I’m  studying.” 

“Well  then,  what  are  you  studying?” 

“Law.” 

“He  spoke  as  proud  as  Cicero,”  the  farmer 
described  years  afterward. 

F rom  the  time  he  was  a small  boy  he  worked 
and  worked  hard.  He  helped  his  father  clear 
the  forest,  plow  the  ground,  plant  and  harvest 
corn.  For  the  neighbors  he  did  all  sorts  of 
odd  jobs.  Pioneers  began  to  say  that  he  was 
above  the  average  backwoods  lad.  He  was 
gentle  and  tender  and  loving.  Would  the  or- 
dinary ten-year-old  child,  some  months  after 
the  death  of  his  mother,  have  written  to  a min- 
ister begging  him  to  come  one  hundred  miles 
and  conduct  the  delayed  funeral  service  at  her 
grave  ? 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY 


85 


Would  an  ordinary  boy  have  borrowed 
Farmer  Crawford’s  copy  of  Weems’  Life  of 
Washington  and  been  so  thrilled  by  its  story 
of  heroism  and  sacrifice  and  love  of  country 
that  he  slept  with  it  under  his  pillow,  to  start 
reading  the  moment  he  awoke?  Would  the 
ordinary  lad,  when  a storm  came  up  and  driv- 
ing rain  blew  in  through  the  chinks  in  the  logs 
and  soaked  pillow  and  boy’s  head  and  the 
precious  book  as  well,  have  gone  sadly  to  the 
owner  and  asked  how  he  could  pay  for  it? 

“Three  days’  com  shucking,”  said  Craw- 
ford. 

The  boy  was  honest.  He  was  shrewd  too. 

“Will  that  pay  for  the  book  or  only  for  the 
damage?” 

“Well,  it’s  not  much  account  now  to  me  or 
anybody  else.  You  pull  fodder  three  days 
and  the  book  is  yours.” 

What  promise  of  greatness  was  there  in  any 
of  the  careers  tried  by  this  young  man  in 
homespun  clothes?  He  did  whatever  work 
was  offered  in  the  neighborhood — splitting 
fence  rails,  making  shelves  and  chairs,  mind- 
ing the  baby.  He  clerked  in  a store  and  won 
the  nickname  “Honest  Abe,”  because  he 
walked  two  miles  to  give  a woman  six  cents 


36  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


more  in  change.  He  was  elected  captain  of  a 
company  of  volunteers  in  a war  with  the  Black 
Hawk  Indians.  No  hint  here  that  he  would 
one  day  be  commander-in-chief  of  army  and 
navy.  He  was  surveyor  and  postmaster  in 
New  Salem.  He  owned  half  of  a store  that 
failed,  his  partner  died,  and  left  Lincoln  to 
meet  the  debts — the  “national  debt”  he  used  to 
call  that  twelve  hundred  dollars,  and  paid  the 
last  cent  of  it  after  seventeen  years  of  struggle 
and  saving. 

Twice  he  took  a cargo  down  the  Mississippi 
on  a flatboat.  He  saw  slaves  toiling  on  the 
plantations  and  on  the  river  wharves.  He 
saw  them  herded  like  cattle,  torn  from  their 
families  and  their  homes,  chained  and  sold  at 
auction.  The  scenes  in  the  slave  market  at 
New  Orleans  made  him  sick  at  heart.  As  they 
turned  to  go  Lincoln  said  to  his  friends  with 
an  earnestness  that  they  remembered,  “If  I 
ever  get  a chance  to  strike  a blow  at  slavery, 
I’ll  hit  it  hard!”  What  opportunity  would 
come  to  him?  No  suggestion  here  that  he 
would  one  day  free  four  million  slaves. 

Between  times  he  read  what  law  books  he 
could  get.  In  1836  he  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  and  the  next  year  moved  to  Springfield, 


LINCOLN’S  BIRTHDAY 


37 


the  capital  of  the  state.  Riding  into  town  on 
a borrowed  horse,  with  all  his  worldly  posses- 
sions packed  into  his  saddle-bags  he  set  up  as 
a lawyer.  Men  said,  “He’ll  never  make  a 
good  lawyer — he’s  too  honest.” 

From  one  town  to  another  he  rode  the  cir- 
cuit. He  began  to  win  cases  because  he 
thought  things  through  to  the  end,  because  he 
was  logical  and  could  make  others  see  his  rea- 
soning, because  he  was  absolutely  fair.  A 
wonderful  knack  he  had  of  winning  men  over 
to  his  opinion.  Slowly  but  surely  he  forged 
to  the  front  in  his  profession. 

“Where  did  that  long-armed  creature  come 
from,”  asked  Stanton  when  he  and  Lincoln 
met  in  a Cincinnati  court  in  1855,  “and  what 
can  he  expect  to  do  in  this  case?” 

A long-legged,  long-armed  country  lawyer, 
why  celebrate  his  birthday? 

For  years  the  question  of  slavery  had  been 
the  most  important  matter  before  the  nation. 
It  was  definitely  settled  by  Congress  in  1820, 
then  again  in  1850.  But  it  would  not  stay 
settled.  Again  and  again  it  pushed  its  way 
into  public  affairs.  During  his  one  term  in 
Congress  Lincoln  voted  forty  times  or  more 
for  the  Wilmot  Proviso  and  other  bills  touch- 


38  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


mg  on  the  question  of  slavery  in  the  territory 
taken  from  Mexico. 

In  1854  came  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  the 
“little  giant,”  with  a new  scheme.  Let  the 
people  of  each  state  decide  for  themselves 
whether  they  would  have  slavery  or  no.  At 
the  passage  of  this  bill  a storm  of  indignation 
rose  in  the  North.  Back  home  again  in  Il- 
linois Douglas  made  a speech  defending  the 
new  law.  All  eyes  turned  to  Lincoln  to  an- 
swer it. 

He  had  definitely  given  up  active  interest 
in  politics.  He  was  not  a candidate  for  a sec- 
ond term  in  Congress.  He  had  settled  down 
to  work  hard  at  the  practise  of  law.  Now 
thoroughly  roused  he  threw  himself  into  the 
struggle.  He  replied  to  Douglas  in  a speech 
where  his  clear  reasoning  swept  his  listeners 
along.  Here  was  a leader  for  the  men  op- 
posed to  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill. 

A new  political  party  came  into  being. 
Among  themselves  the  Republicans  disagreed 
on  nearly  every  question.  They  thought  alike 
on  just  one  thing.  They  were  against  the 
spread  of  slavery.  For  the  first  election,  that 
of  1856,  they  had  little  time  to  organize  and 
lost  the  day. 


LINCOLN’S  BIRTHDAY 


39 


Two  years  later  a senator  was  to  be  chosen 
in  Illinois.  Douglas  wanted  to  be  reelected. 
The  Republicans  of  the  state  fixed  on  Lincoln 
to  run  against  him.  All  Illinois  listened  to  the 
seven  debates  where  these  two  men  spoke  from 
the  same  platform.  All  the  North  was  listen- 
ing to  this  new  leader  who  showed  a grasp  of 
national  affairs. 

“Lincoln’s  a dangerous  man,”  said  a life- 
long Democrat.  “He  makes  you  believe  what 
he  says  in  spite  of  yourself!” 

He  was  an  orator  whose  simple  reasoning 
they  could  follow.  He  pressed  the  brilliant 
Douglas  with  plain,  blunt  questions  and  de- 
manded plain  answers.  He  stood  for  what  he 
knew  to  be  right  and  said  to  his  friends,  anx- 
iously urging  him  not  to  make  the  house- 
divided-against-itself  speech,  “But  it  is  true. 
I’d  rather  be  defeated  with  that  speech  than 
win  without  it.” 

Southerners  too  were  listening.  In  this 
country  lawyer  from  the  middle  west,  the  “big 
giant,”  they  sensed  a distant  threat  to  slavery. 
They  stored  up  the  answers  Douglas  made  to 
his  plain  questions,  answers  that  offended  the 
South  and  made  the  “little  giant”  unpopular. 

Some  of  these  questions  Lincoln’s  friends 


40  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


begged  him  not  to  ask.  Douglas  would  an- 
swer them  in  such  a way  that  even  men  op- 
posed to  slavery  would  vote  for  him  and  that 
would  make  him  senator. 

“Yes,”  was  the  reply,  “but  I’m  after  larger 
game.  If  Douglas  so  answers  he  can  never 
be  president.  1860  is  worth  a hundred  of 
this!” 

He  was  right.  Douglas  won  the  senator- 
ship.  But  the  debates  made  Lincoln  known. 
Men  were  curious  to  see  and  hear  for  them- 
selves this  obscure  man  from  Illinois.  He  was 
invited  to  speak  in  several  eastern  cities.  At 
Cooper  Union  in  New  York,  before  the  lead- 
ers of  the  new  party,  he  made  an  address  that 
was  famous  indeed. 

“When  Lincoln  rose  to  speak,”  says  a man 
who  was  there  that  February  night,  “I  was 
greatly  disappointed.  He  was  tall — oh,  how 
tall ! — and  so  angular  and  awkward  that  I had 
for  an  instant  a feeling  of  pity  for  so  ungainly 
a man.  His  clothes  were  black  and  ill-fitting, 
badly  wrinkled — as  if  they  had  been  jammed 
carelessly  into  a large  trunk.  His  bushy  head, 
with  the  stiff  black  hair  thrown  back,  was  bal- 
anced on  a long  and  lean  head-stalk;  and  when 
he  raised  his  hands  in  an  opening  gesture,  I 
noticed  that  they  were  very  large. 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY 


41 


“He  began  in  a low  tone  of  voice,  as  if  he 
were  used  to  speaking  outdoors  and  was  afraid 
of  speaking  too  loud.  I said  to  myself,  ‘Old 
fellow,  you  won’t  do.  It’s  all  very  well  for  the 
wild  west,  but  this  will  never  go  down  in  New 
York.’  But  pretty  soon  he  began  to  get  into 
his  subject;  he  straightened  up,  made  regular 
and  graceful  gestures ; his  face  lighted  as  with 
an  inward  fire — the  whole  man  was  transfig- 
ured. I forgot  his  clothes,  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. Presently  forgetting  myself,  I was 
on  my  feet  with  the  rest,  yelling  like  a wild 
Indian,  cheering  this  wonderful  man. 

“In  the  close  parts  of  his  argument  you  could 
hear  the  gentle  sizzling  of  the  gas  burners. 
When  he  reached  a climax  the  thunders  of  ap- 
plause were  terrific.  When  I came  out  of  the 
hall,  my  face  glowing  with  excitement  and  my 
frame  all  aquiver,  a friend  with  his  eyes  aglow 
asked  me  what  I thought  of  Abe  Lincoln,  the 
rail-splitter?  I said,  ‘He’s  the  greatest  man 
since  St.  Paul!’  And  I think  so  still.” 

This  Cooper  Union  speech  was  published 
in  the  papers.  It  was  printed  and  sent  broad- 
cast as  a pamphlet.  It  was  like  a bugle-call 
for  the  election  of  1860.  It  gave  a leader  to 
the  Republicans  not  of  his  home  state,  but  of 
the  nation. 

Over  all  the  other  candidates  Lincoln  was 


42  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


nominated  for  the  presidency.  As  he  had 
prophesied  the  answers  to  his  questions  made 
it  impossible  for  the  South  to  vote  for  Doug- 
las. The  Democratic  party  split  and  had  two 
tickets.  After  an  exciting  campaign  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  was  elected  by  the  largest  popu- 
lar vote  ever  given  up  to  that  time  for  any 
president.  Some  men  had  begun  to  call  him 
great.  But  the  United  States  has  had  many 
presidents  whose  birthdays  pass  with  no  cele- 
bration. 

That  was  a critical  time  in  our  history.  The 
southern  states  were  threatening  to  leave  the 
Union,  to  secede  and  form  a government  based 
on  slavery.  Let  them  go,  let  them  go  in  peace, 
urged  many  in  the  North.  Keep  them  in  the 
Union,  argued  conservative  business  men,  give 
in  to  them  on  some  points,  but  keep  them.  All 
those  trying  months  between  election  and  in- 
auguration Lincoln  could  do  nothing. 

Indeed  after  he  became  president  he  must 
still  wait  in  patience.  If  there  was  to  be  war 
he  did  not  wish  to  strike  the  first  blow.  By  the 
fourth  of  March  of  1861  seven  states  had 
seceded  and  formed  the  Confederate  States  of 
America.  Four  others  joined  them.  Their 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY 


43 


Congress  passed  a bill  organizing  an  army. 
Still  Lincoln  waited. 

On  the  twelfth  of  April  the  Confederates 
bombarded  Fort  Sumter  in  the  harbor  of 
Charleston  and  war  began.  Now  that  the 
seceding  states  had  fired  the  first  shot  Lincoln 
lost  not  a moment.  He  called  for  seventy-five 
thousand  men.  More  than  five  million  volun- 
teered. The  patriotism  of  the  North  caught 
fire.  The  people  had  been  vacillating  and  un- 
settled. Now  they  took  up  Lincoln’s  cry, 
“The  Union!  The  Union!” 

The  South  had  at  the  start  many  advan- 
tages. The  sympathy  of  foreign  countries  was 
theirs.  They  had  been  making  ready  for  war. 
They  had  great  supplies  of  ammunition. 
They  had  trained  officers  to  call  on.  Their 
one  chance  was  to  win  quickly. 

If  the  war  was  protracted  the  North  had  re- 
serves of  strength  that  must  in  the  long  run 
bring  victory.  Twenty-two  million  people 
against  nine,  and  of  these  more  than  a third 
were  slaves.  Only  a patient  man  could  await 
the  outcome  of  such  a struggle.  But  Lincoln 
was  patient. 

Infinite  patience  he  had  with  his  cabinet, 


44  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


men  who  had  run  against  him  for  the  nomina- 
tion, now  his  advisers  through  four  years  of 
crisis.  Able  men  they  were,  but  varying 
widely  in  their  views. 

“You  can  never  drive  such  a team,”  warned 
the  president’s  old  friends. 

Nobody  but  a Lincoln  could  have  kept  cor- 
dial relations  with  Seward,  the  scholarly  sec- 
retary of  state,  a man  of  notable  ancestry  and 
fine  presence,  who  had  a notion  he  could  con- 
trol a backwoods  president  and  keep  him 
straight,  who  offered  to  outline  a government 
policy,  who  even  prepared  an  inaugural  ad- 
dress. Who  else  could  have  managed  Stan- 
ton who  had  declared  he’d  make  a president 
of  Lincoln,  but  in  the  end  was  himself  made 
a good  secretary  of  war?  Only  a master  of 
men  could  have  shut  his  eyes  to  all  personal 
issues  among  his  cabinet  members  and  held 
them  to  the  great  task  before  them — of  saving 
the  Union. 

F rom  the  very  first  Lincoln  saw  that  though 
the  war  had  been  caused  by  slavery,  its  sup- 
pression was  not  the  primary  purpose  of  the 
conflict.  It  became  suddenly  a secondary  is- 
sue and  fell  into  the  background.  First  in  im- 
portance was  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY 


45 


“My  course,”  said  Lincoln  to  members  of 
a peace  congress,  “is  as  plain  as  a turnpike 
road.  It  is  marked  out  by  the  constitution. 
I am  in  no  doubt  which  way  to  go.” 

Lincoln  was  patient  too  with  his  generals. 
Untrained  in  the  art  of  war  he  was,  some  peo- 
ple said,  a better  commander  than  any  in  the 
federal  army.  Day  and  night  he  studied  the 
campaigns  in  the  east  and  middle  west.  On  a 
large  wall  map  he  followed  every  step  of  the 
northern  troops.  He  pored  over  military 
books.  Often  he  spent  the  night  by  the  tele- 
graph in  the  war  office,  intent  on  the  last  dis- 
patches from  the  front.  So  practical  was  his 
knowledge  that  he  often  surprised  his  officers 
by  his  directions  and  suggestions. 

In  1861  Lincoln  had  no  great  general,  no 
one  to  offset  Lee.  It  was  the  war  itself  that 
made  them.  Six  different  men  he  tried  in 
command  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  the 
pride  and  hope  of  the  North.  Five  of  them 
were  misfits.  The  first  adopted  a do-nothing 
policy  when  the  people  demanded  “On  to 
Richmond!”  He  wore  away  his  own  reputa- 
tion and  the  patience  of  president  and  country 
by  his  endless  delays,  his  marching  and  coun- 
termarching, his  requests  for  more  men,  more 


46  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


horses,  more  munitions,  more  everything. 

“If  General  McClellan  has  no  use  for  the 
army  of  the  Potomac,  I’d  like  to  borrow  it  for 
a little  while,”  said  Lincoln. 

In  the  end  the  president  found  his  man,  a 
quiet  man  from  his  own  state,  a man  who  could 
go  ahead  with  cool  persistency  of  purpose, 
with  the  grip  of  a bulldog.  Grant  had  ene- 
mies who  urged  Lincoln  to  remove  him. 

“But  I need  this  man,”  was  the  reply.  “He 
fights.” 

“Oh,  Mr.  Lincoln,  he  drinks.” 

“Do  you  know  what  brand  of  whiskey?  I’d 
like  to  send  a barrel  of  it  to  each  of  my  other 
generals.” 

With  all  the  help  of  an  able  cabinet,  with 
the  loyal  support  of  the  North,  with  generals 
and  soldiers  who  could  fight  and  win,  or  lose 
and  fight  again,  the  burden  of  the  four  years 
of  war  rested  on  Abraham  Lincoln.  Llis  was 
the  final  responsibility  for  success  or  failure. 
Each  new  crisis  he  met  with  the  same  unflinch- 
ing courage,  the  same  patience,  the  same  gen- 
tleness. 

Week  by  week,  month  by  month  his  grave 
face  took  on  a new  and  deeper  sadness.  It 
was  thin  and  drawn.  The  dark  gray  eyes  were 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY 


47 


heavy  and  sunken.  All  the  light  had  gone 
out  of  them.  Slower  grew  his  step,  more  bent 
his  shoulders.  In  every  line  of  his  great  body 
there  was  utter  weariness.  His  work  was 
never  finished.  The  burden  and  the  worry 
were  always  with  him. 

The  only  relief  he  found  was  in  his  fund  of 
stories.  Once  at  a cabinet  meeting  he  read 
aloud  a passage  from  a humorous  book.  His 
listeners  were  amazed,  then  disgusted.  Not 
one  of  them  smiled. 

“Gentlemen,”  he  asked  with  a sigh,  “why 
don’t  you  laugh?  With  the  fearful  strain 
that  is  upon  me  night  and  day,  if  I did  not 
laugh  I should  die.  You  need  this  medicine 
as  much  as  I do.” 

The  two  outstanding  events  of  the  war  were 
Lee’s  invasions  of  the  North:  the  battle  of 
Antietam  followed  by  Lincoln’s  emancipation 
proclamation  giving  freedom  to  the  slaves;  and 
the  battle  at  Gettysburg  followed  by  the  pro- 
motion of  Grant  who  replied,  when  asked  how 
he  proposed  to  win,  “By  pegging  away  and 
wearing  them  down.” 

Many  enemies  Lincoln  had.  They  criti- 
cised his  management  of  the  war.  They 
urged  him  to  free  the  slaves  immediately. 


48  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


They  condemned  his  every  act.  Opposition 
he  had  aplenty — from  quarrelsome  members  of 
the  cabinet,  from  an  endless  procession  of  of- 
fice seekers  and  callers,  from  the  press  with 
comments  that  were  frequently  hostile  and  bit- 
ter. 

Another  presidential  election  occurred  in 
1864.  There  was  a loud  demand  for  Lincoln’s 
withdrawal  from  office.  From  all  sides  his 
enemies  attacked  him.  Some  newspapers 
tried  to  prove  him  unfit  for  the  presidency. 
Shortly  before  the  election  Grant’s  troops  suf- 
fered fearful  losses  in  Virginia.  Against  the 
advice  of  his  friends  Lincoln  took  the  unpopu- 
lar step  of  drafting  half  a million  more  men. 

But  the  people,  the  common  people  who 
make  up  the  backbone  of  the  nation,  had  come 
to  know  him  and  to  love  him.  They  laughed 
at  his  eccentricities  and  despite  them  idolized 
him.  In  their  homes  and  around  the  camp 
fires  they  told  his  stories.  They  were  im- 
pressed by  his  comparison  of  the  North  to  the 
old  Dutchman  who  refused  to  swap  horses  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  This  man  so  firm, 
so  modest,  so  tender,  so  full  of  quaint  stories 
and  homely  midwestern  phrases,  this  man  was 
one  of  them.  “Father  Abraham”  they  called 


LINCOLN’S  BIRTHDAY  49 


him,  the  father  of  a new  nation  reborn  from 
the  bloodshed  and  suffering  of  civil  war. 

By  a vast  majority  he  was  reelected  in 
November.  “This,”  telegraphed  Grant,  “is 
worth  more  to  the  country  than  a battle  won.” 

Finally  the  tide  turned.  The  beginning  of 
the  end  came  into  sight.  In  a fairly  steady 
stream  the  North  began  to  receive  news  of  suc- 
cesses. One  by  one  Lincoln’s  four  plans  had 
been  carried  through:  to  win  over  the  border 
states  and  thus  prevent  the  spread  of  the  re- 
bellion; to  open  the  Mississippi  cutting  the 
South  in  two;  to  blockade  the  southern  ports 
so  that  no  cotton  could  be  shipped  to  Europe, 
no  purchases  made  there  be  brought  into  the 
country;  and  last  but  not  least,  the  plan  that 
took  the  longest  to  carry  through  and  cost  the 
most  in  lives  and  money,  to  capture  Richmond. 

“We’ve  had  a hard  time  of  it,  Mary,”  the 
president  said  to  his  wife  as  they  drove  out  that 
balmy  April  afternoon  when  the  air  was  filled 
with  the  scent  of  lilacs,  “since  we  came  to 
Washington.  But  the  war  is  over  and  with 
God’s  blessing  we  may  hope  for  four  years 
of  peace  and  happiness  and  then  we’ll  go  back 
to  Illinois  and  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives  in 
quiet.” 


50  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Dedicate  ourselves  to  the  great  task  remain- 
ing before  us,  he  had  said  on  the  battlefield 
of  Gettysburg.  In  his  second  inaugural  ad- 
dress he  described  that  task:  “With  malice 

toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firmness 
in  the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right, 
let  us  bind  up  the  nation’s  wounds.” 

But  Lincoln  was  not  to  be  the  leader  of  the 
people  in  the  second  part  of  this  work.  A few 
hours  after  that  drive  with  his  wife  he  was 
struck  down  by  the  bullet  of  an  actor  who 
pushed  into  his  box  at  the  theater.  All  night 
he  lay  unconscious  and  died  the  next  morning. 
His  life  unfinished?  Through  fearful  storms 
he  had  brought  the  ship  of  state  safely  into 
port  and  dropped  anchor. 

A great  loss  to  the  North,  a loss  to  the  world, 
most  of  all  an  irreparable  loss  to  the  South 
who  had  no  better  friend  than  this  country 
lawyer  from  the  middle  west. 

In  one  bright  flash  the  people  saw  how  great 
a man  had  fallen.  Instead  of  waving  flags 
and  cheers  of  victory  they  had  only  tears  and 
sorrow.  As  the  funeral  train  draped  in  black 
passed  on  its  long  journey  to  his  old  home  in 
Springfield,  men  and  women  stood  silent  with 
bared  heads  to  do  him  honor.  Kings  and 


LINCOLN  S BIRTHDAY  51 

emperors  paid  their  tributes.  Soldiers  and 
workingmen,  children  and  ex-slaves  sent  their 
pennies  to  build  a monument  to  Lincoln. 

By  whatever  standard  men  measure  he  is 
one  of  the  greatest — this  American  born  in  a 
log  cabin,  whose  life  stood  for  human  free- 
dom, for  greater  justice,  more  good  will  and 
love  among  mankind.  Since  1865  all  the 
world  has  been  raising  memorials  in  his  honor. 
Many  a town  in  Italy,  many  a village  in  dis- 
tant Poland  has  a street  called  after  him. 

Statesmen  and  patriots  study  his  life  that 
they  may  the  better  serve  their  country.  Men 
and  women  resolve  to  imitate  his  beautiful 
charity,  his  public  spirit.  Children  learn  his 
story,  inspired  to  a like  effort,  no  matter  what 
their  environment.  The  shelf  in  the  public 
library  where  the  Lincoln  books  belong  is  al- 
ways empty. 

As  Sam  says  to  Enrico,  “He’s  a great  man. 
But  he’s  just  one  of  us.” 


THE  GOOD  SAINT  VALENTINE 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  FEBRUARY 

In  the  city  of  Rome  there  once  lived  an 
emperor  named  Claudius.  He  is  known  in 
history  as  Claudius  the  Cruel. 

Near  his  palace  was  a beautiful  temple 
where  served  the  priest  Valentine.  Dearly  the 
Romans  loved  him.  They  thronged  into  the 
temple  to  hear  his  words.  Before  the  fire 
that  burned  always  on  the  altar  they  knelt  to 
ask  his  blessing.  Rich  and  poor,  wise  and  ig- 
norant, old  and  young,  patricians  and  common 
people  flocked  to  Valentine. 

In  the  Roman  empire  wars  broke  out. 
Claudius  summoned  the  citizens  forth  to  bat- 
tle. Year  after  year  the  fighting  continued. 
Many  of  the  Romans  were  loath  to  go.  The 
married  men  did  not  want  to  leave  their  fami- 
lies. The  younger  men  did  not  wish  to  leave 
their  sweethearts.  The  emperor  was  angry 
when  soldiers  were  too  few.  He  ordered  that 

no  more  marriages  should  be  celebrated,  that 

52 


VALENTINE’S  DAY  53 

all  engagements  must  be  broken  off  immedi- 
ately. 

Many  a young  Roman  went  off  to  the  wars 
in  sorrow,  leaving  his  love.  Many  a Roman 
maiden  died  of  grief  as  a result  of  this  de- 
cree. 

Now  the  good  priest  Valentine  heard  of 
the  emperor’s  command  and  was  very  sad. 
When  a young  couple  came  to  the  temple, 
secretly  he  united  them  in  marriage  in  front 
of  the  sacred  altar.  Another  pair  sought  his 
aid.  In  secret  he  wedded  them.  Others 
came  and  quietly  were  married.  Valentine 
was  the  friend  of  lovers  in  every  district  of 
Rome. 

But  such  secrets  could  not  be  kept  for  long. 
At  last  word  of  Valentine’s  acts  reached  the 
palace.  Claudius  the  Cruel  was  angry,  ex- 
ceedingly angry.  He  summoned  his  soldiers. 

“Go!  Take  that  priest  in  the  temple! 
Cast  him  into  a dungeon!  No  man  in  Rome, 
priest  or  no,  shall  disobey  my  commands!” 

Valentine  was  dragged  from  the  temple, 
dragged  away  from  the  altar  where  stood  a 
young  maiden  and  a Roman  youth,  ready  to 
wed.  Off  to  prison  the  soldiers  took  him. 

His  friends,  and  the  good  priest  had  many, 


.54  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


many  friends,  interceded  with  Claudius.  In 
vain.  Well  was  he  named  Claudius  the  Cruel. 
In  a dungeon  Valentine  languished  and  died. 
vHis  devoted  friends  buried  him  in  the  church 
of  St.  Praxedes.  When  you  go  to  Rome  you 
can  see  the  very  place.  It  was  the  year  270, 
on  the  fourteenth  of  February. 

Another  story  says  that  Valentine  was  one 
of  the  early  Christians  in  those  far-away  days 
when  that  meant  danger  and  death.  For 
helping  some  Christian  martyrs  he  was  seized, 
dragged  before  the  prefect  of  Rome  and  cast 
into  jail.  There  he  cured  the  keeper’s  daugh- 
ter of  blindness.  When  the  cruel  emperor 
learned  of  this  miracle  he  gave  orders  that 
Valentine  should  be  beheaded. 

Long  years  before  270,  when  Rome  was  first 
founded  it  was  surrounded  by  a wilderness. 
Great  hordes  of  wolves  roamed  over  the  coun- 
tryside. Among  their  many  gods  the  Romans 
had  one  named  Lupercus  who  watched  over 
the  shepherds  and  their  flocks.  In  his  honor 
they  held  a great  feast  in  February  of  each 
year  and  called  it  the  Lupercalia. 

Even  after  the  wilderness  had  been  cleared 
away  and  there  was  no  longer  such  danger 


VALENTINE’S  DAY 


55 


from  the  wolves,  the  people  kept  this  feast 
day.  One  of  the  amusements  at  the  Luper- 
calia  was  a lottery  where  the  names  of  Roman 
maidens  were  placed  in  a box  and  drawn  out 
by  the  young  men.  The  girl  whose  name  he 
drew  each  man  accepted  as  his  love — for  a year 
or  longer. 

After  Christianity  was  firmly  established  the 
priests  wanted  the  people  to  forget  the  old 
heathen  gods.  But  they  did  not  wish  to  do 
away  with  all  their  feasts  and  sports.  So  they 
kept  the  Lupercalia  and  called  it  Valentine’s 
day. 

Into  the  lottery  they  put  the  names  not  of 
maidens,  but  of  different  saints.  The  name 
drawn  out  by  each  young  man  was  called  his 
valentine.  Throughout  the  year  he  must  imi- 
tate the  holy  life  of  his  saint. 

During  the  medieval  days  of  chivalry  names 
of  English  maidens  and  bachelors  were  put 
into  the  box  and  drawn  out  in  pairs.  Each 
couple  exchanged  presents.  The  girl  became 
the  man’s  valentine  for  thit  year..  On  his 
sleeve  he  wore  her  name.  . It  was  his  bounden 
duty  to  attend  and  protect  her. 

This  old,  old  custom  of  drawing  names  on 
the  fourteenth  of  February  was  considered  a 


56  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


good  omen  in  love  affairs.  Often  it  foretold 
a wedding.  F or  since  the  beginning  of  things 
this  has  been  lovers’  day,  a time  for  love  mak- 
ing, for  giving  and  receiving  love  tokens. 

So  far  as  history  tells  us  the  first  modern 
valentines  date  from  the  early  years  of  the  fif- 
teenth century.  The  young  French  duke  of 
Orleans,  captured  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt, 
was  kept  a prisoner  in  the  Tower  of  London 
for  many  years.  To  his  wife  he  wrote  poem 
after  poem,  real  valentines.  About  sixty  of 
them  remain.  You  may  see  some  among  the 
royal  papers  in  the  British  Museum. 

Flowers  as  valentines  are  nearly  two  hun- 
dred years  later.  A daughter  of  Henry  IV 
of  France  gave  a party  in  honor  of  St.  Valen- 
tine. Each  lady  received  a beautiful  bouquet 
of  flowers  from  the  man  chosen  as  her  valen- 
tine. 

Thus  from  Italy  and  France  and  England 
has  come  the  pretty  custom  of  sending  our 
friends  loving  messages  on  this  day,  With 
flowers,  with  heart-shaped  candies,  with  lacy 
valentines  whose  frills  and  furbelows  hide  the 
initials  of  the  sender  we  honor  the  good  priest 
who  disobeyed  Claudius  the  Cruel.- 


THE  MASTER  OF  “MOUNT 
VERNON” 

THE  TWENTY-SECOND  OF  FEBRUARY 

“Forward,  march!” 

“Halt!  Present — ” 

“Time  to  come  in,  boys,”  called  Mr.  Hobby, 
the  school  master.  “A  real  general  little 
George  Washington  is,”  he  said  to  himself  as 
the  child  put  away  his  wooden  sword  and  Brit- 
ish flag.  “Well,  his  great-grandfather  was 
colonel  in  the  Virginia  militia.  I guess  he 
comes  naturally  by  leadership.” 

Captain  and  general  the  boy  was  in  marches 
across  the  school  yard,  in  parades  and  bloodless 
battles.  English  soldiers  fighting  French  and 
Indians,  his  little  army  won  victory  after  vic- 
tory. He  was  still  the  leader  when  there  were 
other  games  than  war. 

“Let’s  ask  George  to  settle  it,”  the  boys 
would  say  when  a dispute  arose.  “He’s  al- 
ways generous  and  just  and  fair.” 

During  his  boyhood  on  the  Virginia  plan- 
57 


58  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


tation  there  was  constant  talk  of  battles.  A 
third  war  between  France  and  England  had 
begun.  On  the  frontiers  was  the  never-end- 
ing fight  with  the  red  men.  Lawrence  Wash- 
ington, George’s  half-brother,  had  been  a sol- 
dier. From  him  and  his  friends,  officers  in 
the  British  navy  and  in  the  militia  of  Virginia, 
the  boy  heard  many  a tale  of  adventure  on  land 
and  sea.  Eagerly  he  listened  to  their  stories 
of  the  French  wars,  and  heard  them  prophesy 
more  fighting  with  their  old  enemy  to  win  the 
Ohio  country,  as  they  called  the  land  just  over 
the  mountains. 

“I  like  George’s  high  spirit  and  honor. 
He’s  a fine  lad,”  said  Lawrence  Washington 
and  after  their  father’s  death  took  him  under 
his  care.  Through  his  friends  in  the  navy  he 
obtained  for  his  young  brother  a warrant  as 
midshipman.  But  Mrs.  Washington  would 
not  give  her  consent,  though  the  story  is  that 
his  luggage  had  already  been  sent  aboard  a 
man-of-war  anchored  in  the  Potomac. 

“No,  my  son,  you  are  too  young.  The  navy 
offers  many  dangers  and  temptations.  What 
future  does  it  give  a middy?” 

Much  of  Washington’s  training  was  due  to 
his  mother.  Love  of  order,  power  to  govern 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  59 


he  learned  from  her.  Strictly  and  sensibly  she 
brought  up  her  children.  She  demanded 
prompt  obedience.  On  courage  and  manli- 
ness and  honor  she  laid  great  stress.  Is  there 
a better  foundation  on  which  to  build  char- 
acter ? 

In  his  last  year  of  school  he  studied  survey- 
ing. This  knowledge  helped  him  later  in  his 
work  on  the  plantation,  in  charting  camps  and 
forts,  in  choosing  the  site  for  a new  capital 
city.  The  work  of  surveying  land  in  that  new 
country  would  give  him  plenty  of  occupation 
and  bring  him  in  money. 

In  March  of  1748  Washington  changed  sud- 
denly from  a sixteen-year-old  schoolboy  to  a 
man  ready  for  his  first  important  work  in  the 
world.  There  was  a full  month  of  hard  and 
rough  frontier  living  while  he  surveyed  the 
Fairfax  estates.  Through  forests  and  over 
mountains  he  and  his  companions  carried  then' 
instruments,  crossing  icy  streams,  shooting 
wild  turkeys  for  their  food,  sleeping  in  tent  or 
cabin  or  under  the  stars. 

“Do  your  work  thoroughly,”  his  mother  had 
said  over  and  over  till  it  was  impressed  upon 
him. 

The  reports  of  this  wilderness  trip,  with 


60  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


maps  and  figures  showing  clearly  the  Fairfax 
properties,  so  pleased  the  owner  that  he  helped 
his  young  friend  secure  a license  as  public  sur- 
veyor. Till  he  was  twenty  Washington  con- 
tinued in  that  work,  often  away  from  home 
for  weeks  at  a time.  He  built  a reputation 
as  a skilled  woodsman  and  an  accurate  sur- 
veyor. His  figures  became  part  of  the  county 
records  and  are  still  used  in  Virginia. 

Lawrence  Washington  was  ill  and  resigned 
his  command  in  the  colonial  army.  For  his 
brother  he  secured  the  post  of  military  in- 
spector with  the  rank  of  major.  A few 
months  later  he  died  leaving  to  George  the 
guardianship  of  his  daughter  and  “Mount 
Vernon,”  his  great  plantation  on  the  Potomac^ 
Giving  up  surveying  the  young  man  took  up 
these  new  responsibilities.  Already  he  had 
shown  that  he  could  be  depended  on  in  an 
emergency. 

The  emergency  was  not  long  in  coming  in 
Virginia. 

On  the  frontier  affairs  grew  threatening. 
The  English  kings  had  granted  lands  in  Amer- 
ica reaching  indefinitely  westward  from  the 
Atlantic.  N ow  the  F rench  working  their  way 
down  from  their  settlements  in  Canada  and 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  61 


planning  to  unite  them  with  New  Orleans  by 
a chain  of  forts,  were  entering  the  Ohio  coun- 
try. Both  nations  realized  how  valuable  this 
section  would  one  day  be — valuable  for  col- 
onies, for  trade  with  the  Indians. 

Rumors  came  that  the  French  were  build- 
ing a fort  on  the  Ohio  river  and  persuading  the 
red  men  to  help  them  against  the  English. 
The  governor  of  Virginia  determined  to  de- 
mand an  explanation  from  the  invaders. 

“I  must  learn  exactly  where  the  fort  is  and 
how  strongly  it’s  defended,”  he  said.  “So  my 
messenger  must  be  a trained  soldier  to  report 
all  that  he  sees.  He  must  be  able  to  make 
friends  with  the  Indians.  He  must  be  a good 
woodsman,  able  to  travel  through  the  forests 
at  this  time  of  year,  for  winter’s  just  begin- 
ning. Where  can  I find  such  a man?” 

Some  one  suggested  Major  Washington. 
“Just  the  one!  I’ll  send  him  at  once.” 
The  very  day  the  young  man  received  his 
orders  he  began  making  preparations — engag- 
ing guides,  collecting  a supply  of  horses  and 
provisions,  of  guns  and  ammunition.  The 
journey  was  seven  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
through  almost  unbroken  wilderness.  The 
letter  to  the  French  commander  at  Fort  Du- 


62  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


quesne  was  delivered  and  an  answer  received. 

The  return  trip  was  still  more  difficult. 
There  was  deep  snow.  The  pack  horses  gave 
out.  With  knapsack  and  gun  Washington  set 
off  on  foot,  was  led  astray  by  his  Indian  guide, 
was  jerked  overboard  into  freezing  water  when 
crossing  a swift  stream  on  a raft ; but  pressing 
steadily  forward  in  the  face  of  the  worst  pos- 
sible weather  he  brought  the  Frenchman’s  re- 
ply to  the  governor. 

In  the  Ohio  country  the  young  major  had 
kept  both  eyes  and  ears  open.  He  wrote  such 
a good  account  of  his  journey  with  such  de- 
tailed information  about  the  fort  and  its  gar- 
rison, the  surrounding  country  and  the  In- 
dians that  it  was  published  as  a government 
record. 

The  French  defied  the  English  and  refused 
to  withdraw.  This  meant  war,  war  carried  on 
by  the  colonies  alone  for  a year,  then  taken  up 
by  the  mother  country.  Veteran  soldiers  were 
sent  over  from  England.  General  Braddock 
was  appointed  to  take  Fort  Duquesne.  Now 
this  dashing  Irish  officer  was  an  experienced 
commander,  but  knew  nothing  of  the  Ohio 
country.  For  the  Virginia  troops  he  felt  only 
contempt. 


WASHINGTON  S BIRTHDAY  63 


With  an  absurd  amount  of  baggage  for 
those  forest  roads,  Braddock  set  out.  With- 
out sending  any  skirmishers  ahead  he  crossed 
the  river  some  eight  miles  from  the  fort, 
though  he  had  been  warned  of  the  danger  of 
ambuscades.  In  their  brilliant  scarlet  uni- 
forms, their  arms  glittering,  flags  flying, 
drums  gaily  beating,  his  troops  swept  forward. 
The  straggling  Virginians  in  their  hunting  cos- 
tumes made  a sorry  showing  in  comparison. 

With  admiring  eyes  Washington  who  was 
serving  on  Braddock’s  staff,  looked  on  as  the 
British  swung  across  a wide  clearing  fringed 
with  wooded  hills.  Suddenly  there  was  a loud 
cry.  The  crack  of  a rifle  followed.  From 
the  forest  on  the  heights  came  a storm  of  bul- 
lets. Into  the  deadliest  sort  of  ambush  they 
had  marched. 

At  the  first  volley  the  colonials  spread  out, 
each  man  for  himself,  taking  cover  behind  trees 
in  Indian  fashion. 

“Shelter  your  men  in  the  same  way,”  sug- 
gested Washington. 

“No,  hiding  behind  trees  is  like  cowardice 
in  the  face  of  the  enemy,”  was  the  proud  an- 
swer. 

The  panic-stricken  men  were  reformed  into 


64  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


shoulder-to-shoulder  ranks.  They  were  a per- 
fect target  for  the  concealed  foe.  By  the  score 
they  were  shot  down.  Disciplined  veterans 
of  England,  they  streamed  away  in  head- 
long flight.  Braddock  fell  sorely  wounded. 
Washington  took  over  the  command  and  or- 
ganized the  retreat.  Only  his  courage  and 
coolness  saved  the  army  from  utter  destruc- 
tion. 

A month  later  he  was  given  command  of  all 
the  forces  of  Virginia.  The  next  years  were 
full  of  vexatious,  often  thankless  work.  The 
long  frontier  must  be  defended  from  Indian 
attacks.  Money  was  lacking.  His  soldiers 
were  raw  material.  Sometimes  the  colony’s 
officials  neglected  this  branch  of  the  service. 

During  these  months  Washington  learned 
the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  “It’s  a poor  work- 
man who  constantly  finds  fault  with  his  tools.” 
He  formed  the  habit  of  making  one  thing 
serve  when  he  couldn’t  get  another.  He  en- 
tered this  war  with  the  F rench  a daring  young 
officer.  He  came  out  of  it  a well-disciplined 
commander.  Much  he  had  learned  from  the 
British.  He  knew  that  they  were  not  invinci- 
ble. 

In  1758  Washington  met  Martha  Custis,  a 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  65 


guest  at  a friend’s  house  where  he  stopped  to 
dine.  At  first  sight  they  fell  in  love.  The 
wedding  was  a brilliant  scene,  for  this  young 
colonel  was  a person  of  importance  in  Vir- 
ginia. The  governor  was  there  in  his  gold  and 
scarlet  costume.  There  were  English  and  col- 
onial officers  in  dress  uniforms.  There  were 
ladies  in  picturesque  draped  gowns.  The 
bride  wore  white  silk  shot  with  threads  of  sil- 
ver. The  groom  was  in  a blue  suit  trimmed 
with  scarlet. 

They  lived  in  Williamsburg,  the  capital  of 
the  colony,  that  Washington  might  attend  the 
meetings  of  the  House  of  Burgesses  to  which 
he  was  elected  during  his  last  campaign. 
As  soon  as  these  official  duties  permitted  they 
moved  to  “Mount  Vernon.” 

Life  there  was  not  a time  of  luxury  and  idle- 
ness. Washington  studied  the  best  methods 
of  raising  crops.  He  planned  new  buildings 
and  kept  the  farm  accounts.  He  made  tools 
and  looked  after  the  welfare  of  his  slaves.  He 
was  ambitious  to  make  his  the  model  planta- 
tion of  Virginia.  Such  was  his  reputation  for 
honesty  and  fairness  that  barrels  of  flour 
marked  “George  Washington — Mount  Ver- 
non” were  passed  without  inspection  at  foreign 


66  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


ports  and  brought  the  highest  prices.  He 
found  time  to  hunt  with  his  old  friends,  to  fish 
and  shoot,  to  attend  dinners  and  dances  in 
the  neighborhood,  to  be  host  to  countless  per- 
sons. Seldom  did  he  miss  a meeting  of  the 
Burgesses.  He  took  the  keenest  interest  in 
public  questions. 

The  matter  most  discussed  was  no  longer  a 
contest  with  the  French,  but  England’s  treat- 
ment of  her  colonies.  Washington  was  in  the 
House  when  a new  member,  a young  lawyer 
named  Patrick  Henry,  made  a bold  speech 
warning  the  king  not  to  tax  America  without 
her  consent,  even  if  the  money  was  to  be  used 
for  the  debts  of  the  late  war.  Against  the 
stamp  act  there  was  such  fierce  opposition  that 
the  British  abandoned  it.  For  a while  it 
seemed  as  if  there  would  be  no  further  diffi- 
culty. 

Then  trouble  broke  out  anew.  Massa- 
chusetts was  interfered  with — a military  gov- 
ernor, soldiers  quartered  upon  the  people,  the 
Boston  massacre  came  in  quick  succession. 
More  and  more  serious  grew  the  quarrel  be- 
tween colonies  and  mother  country.  Clouds 
of  war  were  gathering.  Washington  was  slow 
in  making  up  his  mind  which  side  to  take ; but 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  67 

once  he  decided  there  was  no  shadow  of  turn- 
ing. 

A congress  representing  all  the  colonies  was 
summoned  to  meet  in  Philadelphia.  As  one 
of  her  seven  delegates  Virginia  sent  Wash- 
ington. He  had  seldom  spoken  in  the  House 
of  Burgesses.  Now  he  made  one  eloquent 
speech : 

“I  will  raise  a thousand  men,  enlist  them  at 
my  own  expense,  and  march  myself  at  their 
head  for  the  relief  of  Boston.” 

.But  that  Congress  of  1774  contented  itself 
with  sending  a petition  to  the  king  explaining 
the  difficulty  and  demanding  fair  treatment. 

Neither  king ‘nor  Parliament  paid  any  at- 
tention to  the  petition.  Reluctantly  the  col- 
onies prepared  for  war.  Washington  was 
chosen  to  go  to  a second  Continental  Congress 
and  showed  his  opinions  by  wearing  to  Phila- 
delphia the  old  blue  and  red  uniform  which  he 
had  had  when  commanding  the  forces  of  Vir- 
ginia. Martha  Washington  stood  on  the  steps 
of  “Mount  Vernon”  and  watched  him  ride 
away  with  Henry  and  Randolph. 

“I  hope  you’ll  all  stand  firm,”  she  called 
after  them.  “I  know  George  will.  God  be 
with  you,  gentlemen,” 


68  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


W eary  of  fruitless  protest,  weary  of  wait- 
ing for  faint  promises  of  reconciliation,  Con- 
gress decided  that  action  was  necessary.  First 
of  all  the  country  needed  a commander-in- 
chief  for  the  army  near  Boston.  It  was  from 
New  England  that  the  suggestion  came  that 
this  general  should  be  Washington,  a Virgin- 
ian. Nothing,  argued  John  Adams,  would 
unite  the  colonies  so  much  as  to  have  a south- 
erner commanding  northern  soldiers.  Unani- 
mously Congress  voted  for  him. 

Modestly  he  accepted  the  appointment  say- 
ing, “I  beg  it  may  be  remembered  by  every 
gentleman  in  this  room  that  I this  day  declare, 
with  the  utmost  sincerity,  I do  not  think  my- 
self equal  to  the  command  I am  honored  with. 
As  to  pay,  sir,”  he  turned  to  Hancock,  the 
president,  “I  beg  leave  to  assure  the  Congress 
that  I do  not  wish  to  make  any  profit  from  it. 
I will  keep  an  exact  account  of  my  expenses. 
Those  I doubt  not,  they  will  discharge  and  that 
is  all  I desire.” 

To  his  wife  he  wrote, 

“You  may  believe  me,  my  dear  Patsy,  when  I 
assure  you  in  the  most  solemn  manner  that,  so  far 
from  seeking  this  appointment,  I have  used  every 


WASHINGTON  S BIRTHDAY  69 


endeavor  in  my  power  to  avoid  it.  But  as  it  has 
been  a kind  of  destiny  that  has  thrown  me  upon  this 
service,  I shall  hope  that  my  undertaking  it  is 
designed  to  answer  some  good  purpose.” 

In  June  he  started  north  to  take  command 
of  the  army.  All  along  the  way  men  and 
women  pressed  forward  to  see  him.  They 
held  their  children  up  to  look  upon  him. 
With  new  strength  and  courage  they  turned 
back  to  their  work,  for  beneath  that  stately 
form  and  military  bearing  they  saw  an  hon- 
esty and  sincerity  of  purpose  that  stirred  their 
hearts  to  patriotism. 

The  task  to  which  Washington  had  set  his 
hand  was  gigantic.  Against  the  thirteen  col- 
onies was  England,  the  mightiest  empire  in 
the  world.  She  had  naval  and  military 
powers  unequalled.  She  had  a record  of  cen- 
turies of  triumph  and  conquest.  Counting 
eight  hundred  thousand  slaves  the  colonists 
were  less  than  four  million  souls  and  of  these 
a goodly  number  were  loyal  to  the  king.  Con- 
gress had  no  power  to  prosecute  the  war 
vigorously  and  supply  all  that  was  needed. 
There  was  no  team  work.  There  was  no  na- 
tional spirit. 


70  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Under  the  famous  elm  tree  in  Cambridge 
Washington  drew  his  sword  and  took  com- 
mand of  the  army.  From  that  moment  the 
Revolution  was  embodied  in  him.  In  spite 
of  defeats  and  trials,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle 
he  carried  it  through  to  final  victory. 

First  of  all  he  must  make  an  army.  The 
soldiers  were  brave  and  enthusiastic,  but  wholly 
undisciplined.  He  taught  and  trained  his 
men,  he  fixed  the  rank  of  his  officers  and 
soothed  their  jealousies,  he  hunted  the  coun- 
try over  for  powder,  hiding  his  shortage  by  a 
Yankee  trick  of  barrels  of  sand  that  were 
merely  topped  with  powder.  More  than  once 
before  his  very  eyes  the  army  melted  away,  for 
Congress  enlisted  troops  for  only  three  months 
or  six. 

The  seizing  of  Dorchester  Heights  was 
number  one  of  Washington’s  great  successes. 
Wagons  and  timber,  tools  and  bales  of  hay 
his  men  moved  at  night  up  to  the  hills  over- 
looking Boston.  Almost  by  magic  their  de- 
fenses grew.  In  the  morning  the  British  saw 
ramparts  and  cannon  on  Dorchester  Heights. 
Rubbing  their  eyes  they  looked  again. 

“It’s  like  the  work  of  Aladdin’s  genie,”  ex- 
claimed one  of  the  redcoats. 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  71 


Remembering  their  heavy  losses  at  Bunker 
Hill  they  waited  instead  of  attacking.  Soon 
shot  and  shell  sang  over  Boston.  Staying 
would  mean  destruction.  Quickly  they  took 
to  their  ships  and  sailed  away  to  Halifax, 
leaving  behind  them  two  hundred  cannon  and 
all  their  military  supplies.  Without  loss  of 
life  or  property  a brilliant  victory  was  won. 

An  equally  brilliant  move  Washington  made 
in  New  Jersey  the  following  December.  In 
pitchy  darkness,  through  grinding  ice  the 
Americans  crossed  the  Delaware  river.  In  a 
blinding  snow  they  marched  nine  miles  to 
Trenton.  So  badly  equipped  was  the  army 
that  many  of  the  men  nearly  barefoot  marked 
their  journey  by  bloody  footprints. 

“Our  guns  are  wet,”  an  officer  reported  to 
Washington  as  they  neared  the  town. 

“Use  the  bayonet.  Trenton  must  be 
taken.” 

Dawn  found  the  little  army  stumbling 
along,  marching  with  heads  bent  against  the 
driving  sleet.  The  steaming  horses  strained 
at  the  cannon  and  floundered  in  the  mud  at 
every  step.  Splashing,  trampling  the  men 
slipped  along  in  the  slush  with  grim  determina- 
tion. They  said  not  a word,  but  now  and 


72  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


again  looked  at  their  officers  marked  with  bits 
of  white  paper  on  their  hats. 

At  eight  o’clock  that  Christmas  morning  the 
town  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
firing.  The  Hessian  soldiers  were  still  asleep 
after  their  prolonged  festivities  on  Christmas 
Eve.  They  had  no  time  to  form  in  line  of 
battle  as  their  colonel  ordered. 

The  American  guns  were  wheeled  into  posi- 
tion. With  fatal  precision  they  were  fired  into 
the  huddled  ranks  of  the  enemy.  The  colonel 
fell  mortally  wounded.  His  regiment  broke 
and  fled.  Confusion  reigned.  All  exits  from 
the  town  were  blocked.  The  bewildered  Hes- 
sians were  caught  as  in  a net.  Their  officers 
raised  their  hats  on  their  swords  in  token  of 
surrender. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  battle  of  Trenton 
was  over.  With  captured  horses  and  cannon, 
with  almost  a thousand  prisoners,  Washing- 
ton recrossed  the  Delaware.  In  twenty-four 
hours  he  was  safe  again  in  his  own  camp. 
Success  two. 

To  punish  and  capture  Washington  after 
this  battle  came  Lord  Cornwallis  with  an  army 
of  eight  thousand.  Not  far  from  the  Ameri- 
can position  they  camped  for  the  night. 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  73 


“At  last  we’ve  run  down  the  old  fox,” 
Cornwallis  said  to  his  officers,  “and  we’ll  bag 
him  in  the  morning.” 

But  Washington  left  a few  men  to  keep  his 
camp  fires  burning  brightly  and  to  work  nois- 
ily with  their  shovels  as  if  they  were  throwing 
up  earthworks.  By  a roundabout  road  he  led 
his  whole  force  to  Princeton.  In  the  morn- 
ing he  attacked  the  British  rear  and  in  a sharp 
fight  crushed  it. 

Cornwallis  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes 
when  he  saw  that  the  fox  had  vanished.  He 
could  scarcely  believe  his  ears  when  he  heard, 
carried  far  on  the  cold,  still,  winter  air,  the 
sound  of  firing  at  Princeton. 

“This  three  weeks’  campaign,”  said  Fred- 
erick the  Great  of  Prussia,  accounted  the 
greatest  soldier  of  that  day,  “is  the  most  bril- 
liant of  the  century.  The  young  American 
general  has  opened  a fresh  chapter  in  the  art 
of  war.  England  hasn’t  a man  to  match  him.” 

The  fourth  great  success  of  Washington 
was  in  Virginia,  the  last  act  of  the  play.  He 
issued  false  orders  for  a vigorous  movement 
against  New  York  and  let  them  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  British  general.  Then  cutting 
loose  from  the  Hudson  by  forced  marches  he 


74  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


went  to  Yorktown.  With  an  army  of  sixteen 
thousand,  counting  the  French  under  Lafay- 
ette, he  pressed  Cornwallis  hard. 

The  French  fleet  prevented  escape  by  sea. 
Day  by  day  the  lines  were  drawn  tighter  about 
the  besieged  town.  With  pickaxes  and  shov- 
els the  Americans  threw  up  entrenchments  be- 
hind which  they  crept  nearer  and  nearer  the 
imprisoned  garrison.  Night  and  day  Wash- 
ington kept  them  at  this  work.  Every  detail 
he  supervised  so  that  no  time,  no  strength  was 
wasted. 

Two  of  the  British  redoubts  were  taken  by 
storm.  Cornwallis  made  heroic  attempts  to 
break  through  the  lines.  Once  his  scheme  was 
foiled  by  a terrific  storm,  again  by  the  watch- 
fulness of  the  Americans.  His  defenses  were 
battered  to  the  ground.  Beneath  the  steady 
fire  of  fifty  guns  the  town  itself  was  crumbling 
to  pieces. 

One  morning  a red-coated  drummer  boy 
mounted  one  of  the  ramparts.  Beside  him  ap- 
peared an  officer  with  a white  flag.  Firing 
ceased  instantly.  Blindfolded  the  flag-bearer 
brought  to  Washington  a proposal  to  surren- 
der. On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  the  day 
that  we  call  Lafayette  Day,  Cornwallis  sur- 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  75 

rendered  to  the  fox  he  had  expected  to  bag 
near  the  Delaware. 

If  his  successes  numbered  only  four  Wash- 
ington had  to  his  credit  defeats  as  great  as  vic- 
tories, with  results  as  important.  His  retreat 
across  New  Jersey,  the  failures  at  Brandy- 
wine and  Germantown  which  kept  the  Eng- 
lish so  occupied  that  they  could  send  no  help 
to  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga,  living  through  that 
terrible  winter  at  Valley  Forge,  meeting  with 
calm  dignity  the  Conway  plot  against  him, 
achieving  a half-success  at  Monmouth  where 
the  traitorous  Lee  ordered  a retreat  and  upset 
the  well-laid  plans  for  the  day — these  were 
disasters  which  proved  his  skill  in  war. 

Some  writers  say  indeed  that  Washington’s 
greatest  victory  came  in  the  trying  months  be- 
tween Yorktown  and  peace.  The  unpaid 
army  was  discontented  and  restless.  A meet- 
ing of  officers  was  called  to  make  a plan  to 
force  Congress  to  help  them.  A weak  man 
would  have  kept  silent.  A rash  one  would 
have  suppressed  the  meeting.  Neither  rash 
nor  weak  Washington  quietly  took  control  of 
the  movement.  Time  and  place  for  the 
gathering  he  announced. 

“Gentlemen,”  he  said  opening  a paper  and 


76  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


taking  out  his  glasses,  “y°u  see  I have  grown 
both  gray  and  blind  in  the  service  of  my  coun- 
try.” 

Then  he  read  an  appeal  to  their  patriotism, 
begging  them  to  remain  loyal  and  obedient, 
true  to  their  past.  The  scheme  was  aban- 
doned. The  officers  swore  allegiance  to  the 
government. 

The  army  loved  Washington  and  believed  in 
him.  They  wanted  him  to  command  in  peace 
as  well  as  war.  They  proposed  that  he  be- 
come dictator  or  king.  He  had  fought  not  to 
win  place  or  glory  for  himself,  but  for  a great 
cause.  He  refused  these  suggestions.  With 
the  treaty  of  peace  he  resigned  his  commission 
and  returned  quietly  to  “Mount  Vernon.” 
Glad  he  was  to  be  a private  citizen  again. 

But  during  the  next  four  years  he  did  not 
hold  aloof  from  public  affairs.  Anxiously  he 
watched  the  feeble  confederation  breaking  to 
pieces.  Instead  of  one  nation  there  threat- 
ened to  be  thirteen  weak  states,  each  jealous 
of  the  other  twelve. 

What  few  men  of  that  time  dreamed  of 
Washington  foresaw — instead  of  thirteen  col- 
onies a great  nation  enlarging  to  the  west- 
ward, crossing  the  mountains,  reaching  to  the 


WASHINGTON  S BIRTHDAY  77 


mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  He  was  an  empire 
builder,  but  this  should  be  an  empire  of  the 
people  enjoying  liberty  and  independence. 
This  national  view  he  put  before  the  leaders 
of  the  country  by  letter  over  and  over  again. 

A call  was  sent  out  for  a convention  to  meet 
at  Philadelphia  and  form  a more  perfect  union 
among  the  states.  Washington  was  one  of 
the  Virginia  delegates.  Unanimously  he  was 
chosen  president.  Four  to  seven  hours  a day, 
from  May  to  September  the  members  worked, 
considering  all  the  plans  brought  forward  for 
a government  that  would  give  the  country  or- 
der instead  of  chaos. 

The  constitution  they  drafted  was  for- 
warded to  Congress  and  then  sent  to  the  thir- 
teen states  to  be  ratified.  Early  in  1789  came 
the  election  of  the  first  president.  All  eyes 
were  turned  to  George  Washington.  When 
the  votes  were  counted  every  one  was  for  him. 

He  thought  himself  a general,  not  a states- 
man. “I’d  rather  be  on  my  farm  than  em- 
peror of  the  world,”  he  said.  But  the  nation 
was  calling  him  and  he  obeyed  though  it  meant 
tasks  more  difficult  than  he  had  faced  during 
the  long  war.  As  he  had  borne  the  burden  of 
the  Revolution  he  now  took  up  the  burden  of 


78  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


bringing  a new  government  into  existence. 

Standing  on  the  balcony  of  Federal  Hall  in 
Wall  Street,  New  York  City  he  took  the  oath 
of  office. 

“Long  live  George  Washington,  president 
of  the  LTnited  States!”  cried  Robert  R.  Liv- 
ingston who  as  chancellor  of  the  state  had  given 
him  the  oath.  From  the  crowd  a great  shout 
went  up  while  cannon  announced  the  first  in- 
augural ceremonies. 

The  new  government,  said  Washington, 
must  win  the  respect  of  the  people  as  well  as 
their  loyalty.  It  must  be  administered  with 
firmness,  with  prudence,  with  consideration. 
It  must  be  dignified,  neither  haughty  nor  ser- 
vile. It  must  have  as  its  advisers  the  best 
brains  of  the  nation.  He  selected  as  his  cab- 
inet Hamilton  and  Jefferson,  Knox  and  Ran- 
dolph— all  young  and  very  able  men  with  spec- 
ial knowledge  of  the  work  they  were  to  do. 

At  the  cost  of  his  popularity  for  the  time 
Washington  kept  peace  with  England  and 
later  with  France.  Twenty  years  without 
war,  he  argued,  were  necessary  for  a nation 
that  was  still  weak,  like  a sick  man  convalesc- 
ing after  a long  illness. 

How  great  was  the  total  of  his  twenty  years 


WASHINGTON’S  BIRTHDAY  79 


of  public  service!  As  commander-in-chief  he 
won  the  liberties  of  the  country.  As  president 
he  laid  deep  and  strong  the  foundations  on 
which  a mighty  nation  could  be  solidly  built. 
He  made  the  new  government  respected  in 
other  lands. 

For  a century  and  more  Americans  have 
kept  his  birthday  and  have  called  him 
“father.”  Nor  is  his  influence  bounded  by  the 
United  States.  From  him  Lafayette  learned 
the  principles  of  liberty  and  free  government 
that  France  made  use  of  in  forming  her  repub- 
lic. San  Martin  read  the  story  of  his  life  and 
was  inspired  to  the  mighty  effort  that  estab- 
lished three  republics  in  South  America. 
Simon  Bolivar  impressed  with  the  spirit  of 
Washington  won  the  liberty  of  five  countries. 

The  nation’s  capital  city,  a great  state  in  the 
west,  many  counties  and  cities  bear  his  name. 
For  the  beautiful,  tall  shaft  that  forms  his 
monument  in  the  District  of  Columbia  a stone 
was  sent  by  each  state  in  the  Union. 

“First  in  war,”  said  Light  Horse  Harry 
Lee;  then  a greater  thing,  “first  in  peace;”  and 
greatest  of  all,  “first  in  the  hearts  of  his  coun- 
trymen.** 


THE  CHILDREN’S  PARADISE 


THE  THIRD  OF  MARCH 
THE  FIFTH  OF  MAY 

“There!”  exclaimed  Takumi-San  as  he 
closed  the  bronze  door  of  the  godown,  “that’s 
the  last  of  the  honorable  dolls.” 

He  turned  from  the  black,  fireproof  build- 
ing, handed  several  more  packages  to  the  serv- 
ants and  followed  them  into  the  largest  room 
of  the  house.  It  was  really  three  rooms 
thrown  together,  with  the  paper  walls  and 
screens  pushed  back. 

Since  the  children  went  off  to  bed  two  hours 
ago  father  and  mother  have  been  busily  at 
work.  Around  two  sides  of  the  room  the 
servants  put  up  shelves  like  flights  of  steps, 
so  that  every  object  would  show  to  the  best 
advantage.  The  mother  covered  them  with 
scarlet  cloth  and  decorated  them  with  flowers, 
here  a spray  of  azalea  in  a porcelain  jar  and  on 
the  other  side  cherry  blossoms  in  a beautiful 
bowl. 

On  the  raised  platform  under  a painted 
80 


JAPAN 


81 


silken  scroll,  the  place  of  honor,  she  put  the 
effigies  of  the  Mikado  and  his  wife.  Very  old 
these  dolls  are,  for  they  belonged  to  her  great- 
great-grandmother.  Very  precious  they  are, 
so  precious  that  they  aren’t  kept  in  the  house, 
but  in  the  godown  at  the  end  of  the  garden, 
where  neither  fire  nor  earthquake  can  harm 
them  during  all  the  year.  V ery  beautiful  they 
are  too,  dressed  in  the  antique  costume  of  the 
court,  gorgeous  robes  stiff  with  silver  and  gold 
embroidery  and  brilliant  in  color. 

One  by  one,  handling  them  most  carefully, 
Takumi-San  and  a trusted  servant  unwrap  the 
numerous  parcels  and  pass  the  precious  con- 
tents up  to  the  mother.  On  the  shelves  she 
arranges  the  Mikado’s  possessions — all  tiny, 
all  beautiful.  There  are  all  the  articles  used 
by  their  imperial  majesties — the  furniture 
needed  to  deck  a royal  palace ; a splendid  lac- 
quered table  service,  complete  with  trays  and 
bowls,  with  sake  pots,  rice  buckets  and  tea 
cups;  bullock  carts,  the  carriages  of  old  Japan; 
and  for  the  empress  all  kinds  of  toilet  articles 
• — high  combs  and  gilded  flowers  for  her  hair, 
mirrors,  and  special  utensils  for  blackening  the 
teeth  and  shaving  the  eyebrows,  two  customs 
that  used  to  be  followed. 


82  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


In  front  of  the  lacquered  thrones  the  father 
places  the  five  court  musicians  in  their  splen- 
did robes  of  office,  each  with  a miniature  in- 
strument. On  the  lower  shelves  are  still  other 
dolls — generals  and  soldiers  and  porters, 
nobles  and  tall  princes  with  impassive  faces, 
dressed  in  stiff,  white  clothes,  ’riksha  men, 
dancers,  all  in  the  costume  of  a long  past  day; 
and  a mother  doll  with  her  baby  on  her  back, 
inside  the  blue  kimono,  its  head  sticking  out 
over  her  shoulder  exactly  as  live  babies  are 
carried  on  the  sunny  streets  of  Tokio. 

“How  delighted  Maru  will  be  tomorrow!” 
the  mother  says.  “Here  are  the  honorable 
dolls  we  bought  for  her  on  her  first  third  of 
March.  Eight  years  ago  that  was,  and  now 
she’s  such  a big  girl  and  wears  a wide,  stiff 
obi  (sash)  of  shining  brocade,  tied  with  a huge 
bow.  And  there  are  my  first  dolls  that  my 
father  chose  for  me,  and  the  furniture  that  be- 
longs with  them.  That  pair  was  my  grand- 
mother’s. Yes,  if  Maru  cares  for  them  lov- 
ingly and  reverently  and  takes  them  with  her 
to  her  new  home  when  she’s  married  and  hands 
them  on  to  her  little  daughter,  it  won’t  be 
long  before  our  children’s  children  have  nearly 


JAPAN  88 

as  many  dolls  as  there  are  in  the  prince’s  col- 
lection.” 

“Yes,”  agrees  Takumi-San.  “Now  look! 
here’s  the  pair  I chose  for  the  new  girl-baby.” 
He  opens  a parcel  carefully  wrapped  in  silk 
paper.  “They’re  not  made  of  wood  like  com- 
mon dolls.  They’re  enameled  clay.  Here’s 
her  tea  set  and  furniture,  and  the  dolls’  clothes 
— four  kimonos  apiece,  and  these  wadded  ones 
embroidered  with  plum  blossoms  to  match  the 
baby’s  name. 

“For  it’s  little  Ume’s  first  feast  of  dolls. 
We  must  celebrate  it  for  her.  Of  course  we 
want  to  start  her  collection  with  specially  nice 
dolls.  Just  look  at  this  little  jinrikisha!”  He 
sets  down  the  tiny  two-wheeled  cart  with  a 
man  in  a blue  blouse  to  draw  it.  “And  that 
bundle  is  bedding — tiny  wooden  pillows,  green 
mosquito  curtains,  and  a pair  of  silk  quilts — all 
the  things  that  little  Ume  herself  has.  Last 
of  all,  for  their  meals  this  table,”  and  he  un- 
wraps a piece  of  inlaid  ebony  four  inches 
square. 

“What  did  you  buy  for  Maru?”  asks  the 
mother  after  she  has  examined  the  baby’s  pres- 
ents. 


84  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


“Here  it  is — see!” 

Package  after  package  the  father  unrolls. 
On  the  lowest  shelf  he  sets  out  a country  house 
with  gardens  and  farm,  with  a tiny  lake  and 
pine  trees,  complete  to  the  last  details  of  brass 
fire-box  and  charcoal  basket,  of  chrysanthe- 
mums and  smiling  gardeners. 

At  last  after  hours  of  work  dolls  and  fur- 
niture, dishes  and  toys  are  arranged.  Every- 
thing is  ready  for  the  great  feast.  Tomorrow 
the  third  of  March  is  the  greatest  day  of  the 
year  for  their  two  little  girls.  And  for  the 
parents  no  trouble  is  too  great  if  it  will  but 
add  to  their  happiness. 

“Olnayo,  ohayo ” (Good  morning)  says 
Maru  early  the  next  morning  as  she  greets 
her  father  and  mother  and  kneels  before  them, 
bowing  till  her  forehead  touches  the  floor. 
“Ohayo,”  she  repeats  reverently  to  the  effigies 
of  the  emperor  and  empress  in  their  gorgeous 
clothes. 

How  many,  many  dolls  there  are  to  be  ex- 
amined and  admired!  Dolls  that  had  be- 
longed to  her  mother  and  grandmother  and 
great-grandmother,  dolls  that  have  been  in  the 
family  over  a hundred  years!  Little  dolls 
only  four  inches  high,  big  dolls  that  measure 


JAPAN 


85 


four  feet!  Dolls  that  are  triumphs  of  art, 
whose  makers  took  no  account  of  labor  or  time ! 
Dolls  that  walk  or  dance,  baby  dolls  that  creep, 
dolls,  dolls,  everywhere ! They  were  not  made 
to  be  handled  carelessly  and  broken,  for  the 
Japanese  think  that  if  many  generations  love 
a doll  it  may  have  a soul  loved  into  it. 

For  a week  or  more  Maru  and  her  girl 
friends  have  seen  the  gay  toy  shops  filled  with 
dolls  and  playthings  for  girls.  Not  a boyish 
toy  was  to  be  seen.  There  are  complete 
houses  for  dolls,  with  painted  screens  and 
scrolls  for  the  wall,  dresses  of  rich  material, 
and  every  article  a Japanese  doll  could  need 
or  desire.  Some  of  these  toys  are  very  cheap, 
for  even  the  poorest  coolies  celebrate  this  feast 
and  buy  in  the  toy  shops  for  their  daughters. 
Some  are  very  costly,  made  by  hand,  of  lac- 
quer or  porcelain,  of  gold  or  silver,  of  silk  and 
satin.  Many  of  them  are  very,  very  beautiful. 
In  the  houses  of  some  of  the  nobles  a doll  col- 
lection is  worth  a fortune. 

One  of  the  favorite  dolls  of  Maru,  because 
it’s  her  favorite  story,  is  the  effigy  of  Kato 
Kiyomasa,  a celebrated  warrior  who  lived 
about  1600.  He  carries  a miniature  spear  to 
remind  the  children  how  single-handed  he  slew 


86  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


a wild  tiger  in  Korea,  while  he  was  leading 
the  Japanese  soldiers  to  victory. 

But  her  brother  likes  best  the  four  samurai, 
warriors  with  two  swords  apiece.  He  begs 
their  father  to  tell  them  once  more  the  tale  of 
the  forty-seven  Ronins  who  avenged  their  lord 
at  Yedo. 

“Oh!”  cries  Maru  walking  about  the  room 
and  gazing  from  prime  minister  to  a noble 
with  his  retainers,  from  the  empress  to  the 
mythological  Raiko,  the  giant-killer  of  Japan, 
“this  is  better  than  history  lessons  at  school! 
Why,  here  in  our  own  house  we  can  see  just 
how  these  great  persons  looked  and  how  they 
dressed  and  what  they  owned.”  She  bends 
low  before  the  Mikado  and  adds,  “And  it  tells 
us  to  be  loyal  to  our  emperor.” 

With  deep  and  graceful  bows  she  brings  to 
their  majesties  tiny  lacquered  trays  with  their 
meal  of  dried  rice  and  sweets,  of  cake  and 
sake.  A special  sake  this  is,  brewed  for  this 
feast  day,  a thick,  white  wine  made  out  of 
pounded  rice. 

All  day  long  the  little  girl  plays  with  these 
marvelous  dolls  and  their  belongings.  In  her 
toy  kitchen  where  she  has  every  utensil  needed 
to  cook  the  finest  of  Japanese  feasts,  she  pre- 


JAPAN 


87 


pares  and  serves  them  sumptuous  meals.  She 
pours  out  their  tea  and  gives  them  each  five 
cups — the  number  that  signifies  special  honor. 
She  dresses  and  undresses  some  of  them.  She 
rolls  up  their  quilts  and  puts  away  the  tiny 
wooden  pillows  on  which  they  sleep.  Every 
action  of  her  mother  she  mimics,  in  the  most 
polite  and  formal  manner.  Such  a wonderful 
day  it  is ! 

This  feast  of  the  third  of  March  dates  far, 
far  back  to  the  time  when  the  emperor  and 
empress  were  never  seen  by  the  people,  but 
only  by  a few  favored  courtiers.  The  loyal 
Japanese  made  images  of  them,  dressed  in 
robes  of  state,  surrounded  by  all  the  luxury  and 
pomp  due  to  their  rank.  In  the  spring  when 
the  cherry  trees  blossomed  these  images  were 
displayed  throughout  the  land.  Eagerly  the 
people  gave  them  homage,  for  they  believed 
the  Mikado  was  descended  from  the  god-kings 
who  once  ruled  over  the  country. 

Watching  his  little  daughter  serve  the  royal 
dolls  and  the  old  Kioto  nobles,  Takumi-San 
says  to  his  wife,  “It’s  a marvelous  day,  this 
feast  of  dolls.  It  makes  every  Japanese  child 
loyal  to  the  Mikado.” 

“Yes,”  she  replies,  “but  it  does  something 


88  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


more.  It  interests  a girl  in  housekeeping. 
It’s  a training  in  ceremony  and  etiquette. 
Only  think  how  much  of  etiquette  and  cere- 
mony our  little  Maru  will  have  to  observe 
when  she  grows  up ! She’ll  learn  more 
quickly,  because  of  this  third  of  March,  how 
to  prepare  food  and  drink  and  serve  them  to 
grownup  people  in  the  neatest  and  politest 
way.  Yes,  you’re  right.  This  is  the  day  of 
days  for  Japanese  daughters.” 

For  three  days  the  honorable  dolls  will  stay 
in  the  house  for  the  family  and  their  friends 
to  enjoy  the  exhibition.  Then  they’ll  be 
packed  away,  each  in  a wrapping  of  heavy, 
silken  paper,  and  the  parcels  put  into  the  go- 
down  for  safe  keeping. 

Other  dolls  Maru  has,  any  number  of  them, 
to  play  with  all  during  the  year.  Dearly  she 
loves  them  and  great  fun  she  has  in  taking  care 
of  them.  But  the  honorable  dolls  that  are 
taken  out  for  this  festival  are  her  precious  and 
prized  possessions. 

Father  and  mother,  baby  sister  and  Maru’s 
brother  Yoshi  all  have  some  share  in  the  feast 
of  dolls  and  its  splendid  exhibition.  But  it  is 
primarily  a girls’  day.  To  balance  it  the  boys 


JAPAN 


89 


have  a day  of  their  own.  It  comes  some  two 
months  later  after  the  March  winds  and  all 
the  fun  with  kites ; where  in  all  the  world  are 
there  such  wonderful  kites  as  in  Japan — sing- 
ing kites  and  fighting  kites,  kites  like  dragons 
or  eagles  or  butterflies  or  babies?  On  the  fifth 
of  May  comes  the  boys’  festival  which  they  call 
“the  feast  of  flags.” 

Does  it  mean  the  flag,  the  sweet  iris  which 
grows  on  the  river’s  edge  and  along  the  sides  of 
the  swampy  rice-fields,  which  is  used  in  Japan 
for  decorations  of  many  kinds?  Or  does  it 
mean  the  white  flag  with  the  rising  sun,  the 
standard  of  old  Japan? 

On  the  fifth  of  May,  say  the  old  legends,  an 
evil-disposed  ogre  named  Oni  comes  down 
from  the  heavens  to  bring  some  great  harm  to 
little  boys.  Only  one  thing  he  fears — sharp 
swords.  Japanese  lads  go  down  to  the  river  or 
to  a rice-field,  and  pick  the  long,  sword-shaped 
leaves  of  the  iris.  Everywhere  they  use  it  on 
this  feast  day.  They  place  it  on  the  table. 
They  festoon  it  about  the  house.  They  hang 
it  'along  the  eaves.  They  wear  it  on  their 
heads  with  the  sharp  leaves  projecting  from 
their  foreheads  like  horns.  For  all  he  is  an 
ogre,  Oni  is  a great  coward.  He’s  afraid  of 


90  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


horned  boys.  He’s  afraid  to  enter  a house 
with  swords  hanging  from  the  eaves.  Thus  a 
handful  of  green  leaves  frightens  him  away 
on  this  Japanese  holiday. 

Yesterday  Takumi-San  put  up  a tall  bam- 
boo pole  in  front  of  his  house.  Up  and  down 
the  street  his  neighbors  were  placing  poles. 

“For  the  baby  boy  who  has  come  to  my 
house  since  the  last  feast  of  flags,”  says  the 
father  who  lives  next  door. 

“For  my  only  son,”  says  Yoshi’s  father 
proudly. 

“For  my  four  boys,”  adds  the  father  across 
the  street  as  he  puts  up  a fourth  pole. 

This  morning  as  soon  as  the  boys  said 
“Ohayo”  and  ate  their  rice  with  their  ivory 
chopsticks  they  ran  outdoors  to  put  up  the 
flags.  Everywhere  flags  must  fly  today — 
flags  of  paper,  of  cotton  cloth,  of  silk;  flags 
with  family  crests;  flags  of  Japan;  flags  with 
curious  designs. 

From  the  tops  of  the  bamboo  poles  float 
perhaps  the  queerest  flags  of  all.  They  are 
made  of  paper  or  cotton  cloth.  They  are  of 
every  size  and  color— blue  or  red  or  gray,  but 
all  of  one  shape — the  shape  of  a fish  called 
carp.  The  breeze  quickly  fills  out  their  hoi- 


JAPAN 


91 


low  bodies.  In  the  spring  wind  they  flap  their 
tails  and  wriggle  their  fins  and  squirm  and 
dart  and  flop  about  in  the  most  natural  man- 
ner. 

For  every  son,  a carp.  The  younger  the 
boy,  the  larger  the  fish.  The  strange  flags 
swell  and  rise,  shrink  and  fall  as  the  breeze 
takes  or  leaves  them.  The  sheen  of  their 
scales  glints  in  the  sunlight.  The  streets  are 
alive  with  these  quaint  boys’  banners.  They 
make  a fluttering,  rustling  wave  of  bright 
color  that  floats  over  the  city. 

What  does  the  carp  mean  to  Japanese  boys? 
It  can  swim  against  the  current.  It  can  leap 
over  waterfalls.  Every  time  a lad  looks  at 
his  carp  he  says  to  himself,  “I  must  be  like 
that — unconquerable ! I must  mount  over 
every  difficulty.  When  I see  my  fish  strug- 
gling with  the  breeze,  the  symbol  of  persever- 
ance and  success  in  life,  I hope  I’ll  struggle 
with  everything  that  opposes  me.  Only  thus 
can  I win  fame  and  honor.” 

But  on  this  day  of  days  Yoshi  and  his 
friends  do  more  than  look  at  the  carp  and  re- 
solve to  swim  against  the  current.  F or  weeks 
the  shops  have  been  gay  with  toys  for  boys, 
just  as  in  March  they  showed  only  dolls  and 


92  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


girls’  playthings.  Heroes  of  old  Japan,  sol- 
diers and  famous  warriors  and  wrestlers — 
these  are  the  images  in  the  shops  now.  Many 
of  the  models  are  clad  in  armor.  Their 
horses  are  richly  caparisoned,  pawing  the 
ground  as  if  impatient  for  the  battle.  Hel- 
mets and  swords  are  for  sale  too,  bows  and 
arrows,  horns  and  drums  and  trumpets,  stand- 
ards and  spears  and  coats  of  mail. 

In  Yoshi’s  house  there’s  an  exhibition  of 
warrior  dolls  with  flags  and  banners.  Beside 
each  hero  is  his  crest.  In  front  of  them  are 
all  kinds  of  weapons.  The  food  offered  them 
is  rice  dumplings  wrapped  in  oak  leaves,  be- 
cause the  oak  like  the  carp  is  the  emblem  of 
strength  and  endurance. 

Each  gay  toy  warrior,  each  bright  standard 
has  its  tale  of  glory.  Stories  of  these  noble 
ancestors  the  fathers  tell  their  sons  to  sow  the 
seeds  of  self-reliance,  of  belief  in  the  invincible 
power  of  their  country.  For  courage  and 
loyalty  are  the  inheritance  of  every  Japanese 
boy.  Hearing  these  stories  Yoshi  and  his 
friends  resolve  to  grow  up  to  be  worthy  of  the 
brave  men  who  lived  before  them. 

This  feast  of  the  fifth  of  May,  Takumi-San 
says,  goes  all  the  way  back  to  the  thirteenth 


JAPAN 


93 


century.  For  seven  years  Japan  had  been 
greatly  troubled  by  expeditions  sent  against 
her  by  Kublai  Khan — yes,  the  same  Kublai 
Khan  who  was  Marco  Polo’s  friend.  In  1281 
another  great  army  invaded  the  Mikado’s  em- 
pire. Several  battles  were  fought,  but  the 
Japanese  could  not  win  a decisive  victory. 
Then  as  if  in  answer  to  their  prayers  a mighty 
storm  arose.  The  fleet  of  the  enemy  was  scat- 
tered. A last  desperate  attack  the  soldiers  of 
the  Mikado  made.  Their  foe  was  completely 
annihilated.  Of  a hundred  thousand  invaders 
only  three  escaped  to  tell  their  story. 

“The  storm  was  a miracle!”  cried  the  Jap- 
anese. “The  gods  intervened  to  save  our 
country.  Let  >us  have  a lasting  memorial  of 
this  wonderful  victory.  The  fifth  of  May  shall 
be  a holiday.”  For  more  than  six  hundred 
years  it  has  been  kept  by  the  boys  of  J apan. 

Among  all  the  soldier  dolls  Yoshi  likes  par- 
ticularly the  figures  of  Shoki-Sama,  the  strong 
man  who  could  conquer  Oni;  of  Yoshitsune, 
the  marvelous  fencer  and  general,  and  his 
giant  retainer;  of  Jingu  Kogo,  the  brave  war- 
rior empress  who,  lest  the  troops  should  be 
discouraged,  concealed  from  the  army  the 
death  of  her  husband,  put  on  armor  and  led 


94  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


a great  campaign  against  Korea ; and  Iyeyasu, 
the  maker  of  Yedo,  whom  the  Japanese  con- 
sider the  greatest  ruler  the  country  has  ever 
obeyed,  and  beside  him  his  famous  charger 
whose  tomb  is  near  his  master’s  in  the  solemn 
pines  of  Nikko;  and  Toyotomi  Hedeyoshi,  the 
greatest  adventurer  and  perhaps  the  greatest 
general  in  the  history  of  Japan,  with  his 
unique  standard  of  a bright  yellow  gourd. 

Yoshi  listens  breathlessly  as  he  hears  once 
more  the  story  of  this  man,  born  in  the  lowest 
rank  of  the  people,  who  became  regent  of  the 
land,  who  brought  about  peace  after  two  hun- 
dred years  of  strife,  a peace  that  lasted  for 
two  centuries;  who  when  challenged  to  single 
combat  had  no  standard  to  carry  on  to  the 
field  and  tore  up  by  the  roots  a gourd  growing 
by  the  roadside  and  used  it  as  a banner. 

Eagerly  the  lad  answers  the  questions  his 
father  puts  to  test  his  knowdedge  of  Japanese 
history.  The  example  of  these  heroes  he  too 
must  follow.  He  must  be  brave  in  battle. 
He  must  be  persevering  in  difficulties.  Thus 
only  can  a Japanese  boy  repay  all  that  he  owes 
to  his  father,  to  the  emperor  and  to  Japan. 

Takumi-San  gives  his  son  presents  on  this 
feast  day,  just  as  he  did  to  Maru  and  the  baby. 


JAPAN 


95 


But  now  the  gifts  are  a sword  and  a set  of 
toys — an  arsenal  with  generals,  soldiers  on 
foot  and  on  horse,  flags  and  banners,  tents  and 
racks  for  arms. 

For  this  festival  Yoshi  and  his  friends  have 
several  favorite  games.  In  one  they  form 
themselves  into  a daimiyo’s  procession  (a 
daimiyo  was  a native  prince,  in  the  olden  days, 
his  followers  were  the  samurai) . They  choose 
officers  and  runners  to  clear  the  highroad. 
They  imitate  to  the  last  detail  the  pomp  of  the 
daimiyo3 s train.  In  the  shops  the  boys  can 
buy  all  the  equipment  for  such  a procession. 

There  used  to  be  a very  popular  game  which 
represented  a war  between  two  noble  families, 
rivals  in  feudal  times.  All  the  lads  of  a town 
or  district  were  divided  into  two  parties. 
Sometimes  there  were  several  hundred  of 
them,  marshalled  in  squadrons  as  in  an  army. 
The  Heiki  had  white  flags,  the  Genji  red. 
Each  boy  carried  a bamboo  sword.  On  his 
head  he  fastened  a flat,  round  piece  of  earthen- 
ware. 

The  signal  was  given.  The  battle  com- 
menced. Slash,  slash!  went  the  toy  swords. 
The  object  was  to  break  the  earthen  disks  on 
the  heads  of  the  enemy.  Any  soldier  whose 


96  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


helmet  was  demolished  had  to  retire  from  the 
field  defeated,  for  the  broken  disk  represented 
a broken  skull.  The  noble  whose  men  had  the 
greater  number  of  disks  unbroken  won  the  day. 

Always  the  contest  was  exciting.  Often 
boys  were  seriously  hurt  in  this  mimic  warfare. 
Now  this  game  that  belongs  to  the  fifth  of 
May  is  forbidden  by  the  government. 

Instead  the  Heiki  and  Genji  have  a different 
kind  of  contest.  Each  boy  has  a flag,  white  or 
red.  In  the  battle  the  object  is  to  seize  flags 
from  the  foe.  A boy  who  loses  his  must  leave 
the  field.  The  side  with  the  most  flags  at  the 
end  of  the  struggle  is  the  victor. 

When  all  the  fun  is  over  Yoshi  and  his 
friends  are  tired  out.  For  absolute  enjoy- 
ment do  the  boys  of  any  other  country  get  so 
much  out  of  their  holidays  as  Japanese  boys 
from  this  feast  of  flags?  It’s  worth  being 
tired  for! 

Japan  is  called  the  land  of  the  rising  sun, 
the  land  of  cherry  blossoms,  of  the  chrysanthe- 
mum. But  its  best  name  is  the  children’s 
paradise.  In  no  other  country  are  there  so 
many  fine  toys  and  games  for  boys  and  girls. 
In  no  other  land  do  the  parents  give  so  much 
time  and  thought  to  their  children’s  holidays, 


JAPAN 


97 


or  share  so  fully  in  their  pleasures.  Where 
else  do  they  celebrate  with  a special  day  for 
the  girls  and  a special  day  for  the  boys? 

“O-Sayonara!”  (Goodbye)  call  Yoshi  and 
Maru,  “O-Sayonarar 


THE  TORCH  BEARER 


MARCH  THE  SEVENTEENTH 

Green ! Green ! 

Green  in  the  shops,  you  say.  Green  candies 
and  green  clothes  and  green  carnations  and 
little  green  flags.  And  men  selling  something 
they  call  shamrock  on  the  street  corner.  And 
you  young  folks  want  to  know  the  meaning 
of  it  all.  So  you’ve  come  to  me  because  you 
saw  me  marching  in  the  parade  this  morning, 
wearing  a sash  of  green? 

Well,  I’ll  tell  you  the  best  I can.  But  a 
poor  best  I fear  me  it  will  be.  For  while  it’s 
easy  enough  to  tell  the  story  of  this  holiday, 
how  can  an  old  man  put  into  words  all  it  means, 
all  it  stands  for  to  Ireland  and  to  her  children 
all  over  the  world? 

But  to  begin  now,  and  it’s  an  Irish  bull  I 
begin  with,  St.  Patrick  isn’t  Irish  at  all.  He’s 
British,  born  on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland, 
toward  the  end  of  the  third  century.  His 
father  was  a magistrate  in  the  Roman  colony 

98 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY 


99 


near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Clyde,  not  so  far 
from  Glasgow.  His  mother  was  a niece  of 
St.  Martin  of  Tours. 

The  father  taught  the  boy  all  that  a Roman 
citizen  should  know.  The  mother  taught  him 
to  be  courteous  and  knightly,  for  she  brought 
from  sunny  France  many  a memory  of  courtly 
manners.  So  Patrick  grew  up  learning  vari- 
ous things  not  known  in  that  wdld,  savage, 
northern  land.  But  the  chief  of  them  was  a 
knowledge  of  the  Christian  faith.  Psalms  he 
had  to  learn  and  many  prayers.  Sometimes 
these  lessons  seemed  dull  and  uninteresting. 

“I  wonder  now,”  he  would  think,  “if  it  isn’t 
pleasanter  to  be  a heathen  than  a Christian? 
For  they  have  no  psalms  to  learn,  no  prayers 
to  recite.” 

“Some  day  you’ll  think  differently,”  an- 
swered his  gentle  mother.  “What  you  call 
dull  tasks  will  be  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures 
of  silver.” 

One  stormy  night  when  the  lad  Patrick  was 
sixteen  years  old  pirates  from  Ireland  burst 
into  the  farmhouse  where  the  Romans  sat  be- 
fore the  glowing  peat  fire.  Without  warning 
they  were  attacked.  Bravely  they  fought  and 
with  no  thought  of  fear.  Outnumbered,  over- 


100  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


powered  they  were  killed,  or  captured  and 
bound  hand  and  foot. 

“To  the  boats!”  cried  the  pirate  captain. 
“Handle  the  lad  carefully,  my  men,”  he  added 
pointing  to  Patrick  at  the  end  of  the  row  of 
prisoners.  “He’s  strong  and  will  bring  a good 
price  on  the  other  side.  No,  no,  leave  the 
women  here.” 

Through  the  long  dark  night  the  boat  tossed 
on  the  stormy  sea.  When  morning  came 
Patrick  found  himself  in  Ireland.  The  pi- 
rates sold  him  to  a man  who  lived  in  county 
Antrim.  And  he  was  sent  to  feed  his  master’s 
swine. 

On  the  mountains,  in  the  forest,  in  snow 
and  rain  the  young  slave  lived  for  six  long 
years.  Often  he  was  hungry.  Often  he  was 
bitterly  cold.  It  was  a life  to  test  his  endur- 
ance, strong  and  hardy  as  he  was.  Rest  and 
leisure?  None  for  him.  A slave’s  tasks  are 
never  finished.  Snow  on  the  ground?  He 
must  drive  out  his  pigs  and  find  acorns  for 
them.  Frequently  he  spent  the  night  on  the 
hillside  though  a biting  wind  swept  over  the 
mountains. 

One  thing  he  had  in  plenty' — time  to  think. 
He  thought  of  his  home,  of  his  parents,  and  of 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY 


101 


the  dull  lessons  his  mother  had  made  him  learn. 
Little  by  little  they  came  back  to  him.  In 
the  psalms,  in  the  prayers  that  he  now  recited 
over  and  over  he  found  many  a word  of  com- 
fort. They  were  indeed  like  apples  of  gold  in 
pictures  of  silver. 

Patrick  made  good  use  of  these  long  months 
of  slavery.  He  learned  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms and  language  of  the  people  of  Ireland. 
He  learned  to  see  beauty  in  the  common  things 
around  him.  You  know  the  story  of  how  he 
was  asked,  years  afterward,  to  explain  the 
Trinity — three  persons  in  one — and  how  he 
stooped  down  and  from  the  grass  at  his  feet 
plucked  a leaf  of  the  delicate,  little,  green 
shamrock  and  used  its  three  leaves  growing 
from  one  stem  to  illustrate  the  mystery? 

One  night  when  he  was  resting  in  the  shelter 
of  a rock  he  fell  asleep.  In  his  dream  he  heard 
a voice  say,  “You  shall  soon  return  to  your 
home.  Behold,  a ship  is  ready.” 

It  was  the  voice  of  an  angel,  Patrick  thought. 
He  set  out  for  the  seashore  at  once.  After 
many  a weary  mile  he  found  a ship  with  sails 
already  set  to  begin  its  voyage  to  Britain. 

“No,”  cried  the  captain  angrily,  “begone! 
I’ll  take  no  runaway  slave!” 


102  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Sorrowfully  Patrick  turned  away  and 
trudged  up  the  road.  But  the  captain  changed 
his  mind  and  sent  a sailor  after  him. 

“Come,  we’ll  take  you  on  trust.  You  can 
work  out  your  passage.” 

Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  Irish  coast. 
Three  days  later  the  ship  reached  land,  but 
not  near  the  river  Clyde.  Across  a strange, 
desolate  country  they  had  to  travel.  Day  by 
day  their  supply  of  food  grew  less.  Must  they 
starve  to  death? 

“Christian,”  said  the  captain,  “I’ve  often 
watched  you  at  your  prayers.  Pray  for  us 
now,  for  we  are  starving.” 

“I  will,”  answered  Patrick,  “but  you  too 
must  have  faith.” 

He  knelt  down  and  prayed.  Suddenly  in 
the  woods  there  was  a rushing,  tearing  sound. 
A herd  of  wild  boars  swept  by.  The  sailors 
gave  chase  and  soon  killed  enough  to  give  them 
food  for  weeks. 

After  twenty-seven  days  of  wild  adventure 
Patrick  reached  home  again.  Picture  the  joy 
and  happiness  of  his  arrival!  All  his  hard- 
ships, all  his  troubles  were  forgotten.  But 
he  could  not  be  again  the  careless  lad  of  six- 


ST.  PATRICK’S  DAY  103 

teen.  He  was  a man  and  must  do  a man’s 
work  in  the  world. 

“Yes,”  agreed  his  mother.  “But  I beg  of 
you,  do  it  here.  Never  leave  us,  now  that  we 
have  found  you  so  wonderfully.” 

For  a while  that  was  Patrick’s  sole  desire, 
to  stay  in  his  dear  home.  Then  one  night  as 
he  slept  an  angel  came  to  him  carrying  a bun- 
dle of  letters.  On  the  first  was  written,  “The 
voice  of  the  Irish.”  As  he  read  the  words  he 
heard  a call,  the  voices  of  many  people  who 
dwelt  by  the  western  ocean,  “Come  and  dwell 
with  us!  We  pray  thee,  holy  youth,  walk 
among  us  as  before!” 

His  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears.  He 
could  no  longer  see  the  letter  held  out  to  him 
and  he  awoke. 

Those  people  near  the  western  ocean  were 
poor  and  untaught.  They  were  heathen  and 
had  never  heard  of  God.  Patrick  made  up 
his  mind  to  spend  his  life  preaching  to  them. 
With  the  torch  of  God’s  love  in  his  hand  he 
would  spread  abroad  the  glorious  light  of 
Christianity  in  every  corner  of  dark  Ireland. 

His  friends  and  relatives  opposed  this  plan. 
They  made  Patrick  great  offers  to  detain  him. 


104  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


They  tried  to  frighten  him  with  talk  of  the 
dangers  of  that  savage  land.  But  for  riches 
and  honors  he  cared  nothing.  His  one  desire 
was  to  carry  his  message  to  the  Irish  people. 
By  day  he  thought  of  Ireland.  By  night  he 
dreamed  of  her  green  and  fertile  shores. 

But  he  was  too  wise  to  go  unprepared. 
For  such  a mission  years  of  study  were  needed. 
Into  France  and  Italy  Patrick  journeyed. 
At  Tours  he  stayed  with  his  mother’s  uncle. 
From  the  good  St.  Martin’s  hands  he  received 
the  habit  of  a monk.  It  was  the  pope  Celes- 
tine,  say  the  old  books,  who  consecrated  him 
bishop  and  charged  him  to  convert  the  people 
of  Ireland. 

In  the  year  432  the  lad  who  had  been  a slave 
and  swineherd  returned.  Not  alone  he  went, 
but  with  a train  of  clergy  and  helpers.  Books 
and  priestly  vestments  he  had  and  his  pastoral 
staff ; and  learning  and  a loving  heart,  and  that 
was  best  of  all. 

At  Wicklow  they  landed.  The  first  person 
they  met  was  a lad  tending  swine.  Terrified 
he  fled  away  through  the  woods  to  his  master. 

“Pirates !”  he  cried.  “Pirates  are  landing  at 
the  bay!” 

But  when  the  man  summoned  his  followers 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY  105 

and  marched  down  to  the  beach  he  saw  only 
a group  of  unarmed  folk. 

“Friends  and  not  enemies  they  are,”  he 
called  back  to  his  soldiers  after  he  had  talked 
earnestly  with  Patrick.  “Put  up  your  weap- 
ons !” 

Now  it  was  in  the  spring  that  this  torch- 
bearer  returned  to  Ireland.  But  the  glad  sea- 
son of  Easter  had  no  meaning  for  the  people. 
They  worshiped  the  sun  which  was  putting 
winter  to  flight  and  changing  buds  to  blossoms. 
In  its  honor  every  year  their  priests,  the 
Druids,  held  a great  festival  at  Tara  where 
lived  the  fierce  King  Laoghaire.  On  the  day 
before  all  fires  were  put  out.  On  pain  of 
death  no  man  could  kindle  one  until  the  king’s 
great  festal  beacon  should  be  lighted  on  the 
hill  of  Tara. 

When  Patrick  heard  of  this  gathering  of 
the  people  and  their  priests,  and  that  the  king 
himself  would  be  there,  it  seemed  a splendid 
opportunity.  Swiftly  he  traveled  across  hill 
and  dale.  On  Easter  Eve  he  reached  the  hill 
of  Slane,  a dozen  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Boyne. 

The  whole  land  was  wrapped  in  darkness. 
Not  a fire,  not  a light  was  to  be  seen.  Over 


106  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Tara  was  a solemn  blackness.  The  night  was 
cold.  Patrick  started  a fire  and  sat  watching 
the  little  tongues  of  flame  as  they  shot  up 
higher  and  higher. 

The  white-robed  Druids  and  the  king  saw 
the  glowing  light.  Astonished  and  angry 
Laoghaire  asked,  “Who  has  dared  do  this 
thing?” 

“None  of  thy  subjects  surely,  my  lord 
king,”  said  the  priests.  “The  commands  are 
most  strict.  Gold  and  silver  could  not  save 
the  life  of  a man  who  disobeyed.  It  is  an 
enemy.” 

“What  does  it  mean  then?” 

“The  old  prophecies  say,  if  this  fire  be  not 
extinguished  tonight  it  will  never  be  ex- 
tinguished, but  will  overtop  all  our  fires.  And 
he  that  kindled  it  will  overturn  thy  kingdom.” 

“He  shall  not  challenge  us  thus,”  cried  the 
king.  “We  will  go  forth  and  punish  this  bold 
stranger.” 

There  was  heard  the  shouting  of  men  and 
the  stamping  of  horses  while  the  royal  chariots 
were  made  ready.  Over  the  dark,  silent  hill- 
side went  king  and  priests,  till  they  came  near- 
er and  nearer  to  the  fire  burning  on  the  hill 
of  Slane. 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY 


107 


“Go  not  within  the  line  of  that  magic  light,” 
urged  the  Druids.  “Let  a messenger  fetch 
him  forth.” 

“You  say  well.  We  will  wait  here.  Rise 
not  when  he  comes,  lest  he  should  think  we  seek 
to  honor  him.” 

They  sat  down  to  wait  the  return  of  the 
messenger.  Soon  Patrick  came  toward  them, 
outlined  against  the  flickering  fire.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  group  sat  silent,  the  warriors 
resting  their  chins  on  the  rims  of  their  great 
shields,  looking  grim  and  terrible  in  the  flar- 
ing light. 

F orgetting  the  king’s  order  one  of  the  pages 
rose  to  his  feet  in  reverent  greeting.  Raising 
his  hand  Patrick  blessed  the  lad.  And  years 
later  he  became  bishop  of  Slane. 

“Who  are  you?”  questioned  Laoghaire. 
“What  is  your  errand  here?” 

“I  am  a torch  bearer.  I bring  light  to  this 
dark  land.  I bring  peace  and  good  will. 
Hear  my  message,  I pray.” 

“Slay  him!”  commanded  the  king. 

Before  his  followers  could  obey  a violent 
tempest  arose.  In  fright  the  horses  ran  over 
the  plain.  The  chariots  were  swept  away  and 
destroyed.  Confused  and  terrified,  the  peo- 


108  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


pie  turned  upon  each  other  fiercely.  After 
struggle  and  bloodshed  they  fled.  Only  the 
king  and  one  other  remained.  Alone,  un- 
armed Patrick  stood  before  them. 

“Come  to  Tara  tomorrow,”  said  Laoghaire, 
“and  speak  before  the  court.” 

This  was  what  Patrick  most  desired.  Robed 
in  white,  wearing  his  mitre  and  carrying  his 
staff  the  priest  appeared  at  Tara.  Unafraid 
in  the  presence  of  king  and  court  he  explained 
the  leading  points  in  the  teachings  of  Chris- 
tianity. A new  and  wonderful  message  it 
was,  of  love  and  mercy  and  forgiveness.  Such 
words  the  Irish  had  never  heard  before. 
Laoghaire  gave  permission  for  the  newcomers 
to  go  safely  through  his  dominions  to  teach 
and  to  preach. 

What  a glad  Easter  for  the  new  bishop,  for 
the  slave  who  had  tended  swine  in  that  land ! 

Up  and  down  through  the  country  ruled  by 
Laoghaire  Patrick  went  with  his  Christian 
teachings.  Into  Connaught  he  journeyed  and 
won  over  the  seven  sons  of  the  king  and  twelve 
thousand  of  his  subjects.  To  the  far  west  he 
went  and  north  to  the  most  distant  point 
on  the  rocky  coast  of  Antrim,  then  south 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY  109 

to  the  very  end  of  Munster.  Thus  his  travels 
formed  a cross  over  Ireland. 

Now  a wild  and  rude  country  it  was.  The 
poor  people  used  to  worship  snakes.  No  one 
dared  to  kill  them  and  the  Irish  were  greatly 
troubled,  the  land  was  so  full  of  the  reptiles. 
Patrick  traveled  over  the  land,  says  the  old 
story,  with  a drummer  marching  before  him 
beating  the  big  drum  with  all  his  might.  The 
power  of  the  good  saint,  added  to  the  noise  of 
the  drum  frightened  the  snakes.  F ast  as  they 
could  they  ran  and  jumped  into  the  sea.  And 
in  the  whole  of  Ireland  today  you  can’t  find  a 
single  living  snake ! 

But  once  Patrick  met  up  with  a monstrous 
serpent  that  feared  him  not  a whit.  Instead 
of  running  away  it  lay  right  across  his  path. 
What  should  he  do?  He  hunted  around  till 
he  found  a big  box  with  a strong  cover.  With 
many  a soft  word — for  though  he  wasn’t  Irish 
he’d  learned  the  Irish  way  of  speaking — he 
coaxed  the  snake  to  get  into  the  box. 

“It’s  too  small  to  hold  me,”  said  the  wily 
creature. 

“ ’Tis  quite  large  enough,”  declared  Patrick. 

At  great  length  they  argued  the  matter. 


110  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


“I’ll  show  you!  I’ll  prove  the  truth  of  what 
I say,”  cried  the  serpent  angrily. 

Slowly,  carefully  it  crawled  in  and  coiled 
down.  In  a flash  the  cover  was  clapped  on 
tight.  The  box  was  cast  into  the  Irish  Sea. 

The  rest  of  his  life  Patrick  spent  among 
these  people.  He  labored  to  win  over  the 
chiefs  of  the  land.  Their  followers  would  then 
be  the  more  ready  to  hearken  to  his  message. 
He  labored  to  teach  the  lads.  He  could  not 
forget  his  own  years  as  a tender  of  swine. 
F rom  him  the  people  learned  to  believe  in  God. 
Gladly  they  turned  from  darkness  to  the  light. 

When  a chief  became  a Christian  it  was  the 
custom  for  him  to  give  Patrick  a piece  of  land 
on  which  to  build  a church.  Near  each  of  the 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  churches  he 
founded  a school.  In  the  monasteries  he  left 
disciples  to  carry  on  his  work. 

All  who  loved  learning  flocked  to  these  Irish 
schools  so  that  they  became  famous  through 
western  Europe.  Thither  came  also  the 
Druids,  the  poets  and  musicians  of  that  age. 
But  now  they  tuned  their  harps  in  the  service  of 
God.  Beautiful  was  their  music,  so  beautiful 
that  it’s  said  the  angels  of  heaven  stooped  down 


ST.  PATRICK  S DAY 


111 


to  listen.  That’s  why  the  harp  became  the 
badge  of  Ireland. 

And  at  last  after  he’d  given  many  a year 
of  faithful  work  and  had  made  the  Irish  people 
Christians,  in  the  spring  when  the  shamrocks 
decked  the  land  with  their  dainty  green  Pat- 
rick died.  Everywhere  there  was  mourning. 
From  the  most  remote  villages  priests  and  peo- 
ple came  to  pay  a last  tribute  to  their  master. 
For  twelve  days  and  nights  the  ceremonies 
lasted,  each  group  joining  as  it  arrived.  The 
blaze  of  hundreds  of  torches  made  the  whole 
time  seem  like  one  continuous  day. 

Now  whether  he  died  on  the  eighth  of  March 
or  on  the  ninth  I can  not  tell.  Among  the 
Irish  there  was  great  debate.  Some  insisted 
on  the  one  day  and  some  held  out  for  the  other. 
At  last  they  decided  to  add  the  two  together 
and  to  have  the  seventeenth  for  St.  Patrick’s 
day. 

For  all  that  he  did  for  her  Ireland  can  never 
be  grateful  enough.  She  chose  him  for  her 
patron  saint.  She  worships  his  memory 
and  keeps  it  green  forever.  In  every  Irish 
family  there’s  sure  to  be  a Patrick  or  a 
Patricia. 


112  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


The  world  over  Irishmen  celebrate  this  day. 
We  parade  with  music  and  banners.  We  wear 
the  green  and  make  speeches  in  praise  of  the 
emerald  isle,  in  honor  of  our  saint.  Do  you 
see  why  ? 


“TO  ARMS!  THE  REDCOATS 
ARE  COMING!” 

THE  NINETEENTH  OF  APRIL 

A few  years  ago  about  ten  o’clock  one  April 
night  a fourteen-year-old  girl  crept  up  the 
steps  of  the  belfry  of  Christ  Church  in  Boston. 
Without  pausing  to  look  down  on  the  narrow, 
crooked  streets  of  the  North  End,  or  on  the 
river  near  by  she  went  about  her  task.  She 
lighted  the  two  lanterns  hanging  from  her  arm. 
High  in  the  belfry  she  placed  them. 

Americans  and  Italians,  Poles  and  Russians 
of  that  crowded  tenement  neighborhood  saw 
the  two  gleaming  lights  and  said,  “All,  look! 
There’s  the  signal!” 

Across  the  river  Charles  waited  a man  in 
colonial  dress.  The  moment  the  lights  flashed 
out  he  swung  himself  on  to  his  good  gray  horse 
and  rode  off  into  the  darkness.  From  Charles- 
town to  Medford  he  rode  and  on  to  Arlington. 
Through  stretches  of  green  fields  and  patches 
of  woodland,  past  trim  market  gardens  and 
suburban  villages,  on  through  the  night  he 

113 


114  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


went  to  Lexington  and  thence  to  Concord. 

To  every  group  he  chanced  to  meet  on  the 
highway,  to  the  sleeping  people  in  houses 
near  the  road  the  horseman  shouted  out  his 
message:  “Up  and  to  arms!  The  regulars 

are  coming!” 

In  old  colonial  farmhouses,  in  modern  sub- 
urban residences,  in  beautiful  country  homes 
men  and  women  and  children  sat  at  the  win- 
dows watching  for  that  swift  rider.  They 
heard  the  hard  galloping  of  his  horse.  They 
heard  the  exciting  words,  “To  arms!  The 
redcoats  are  coming!” 

And  when  scarcely  drawing  rein  he  had 
dashed  on  toward  the  next  village,  fathers  and 
mothers  turned  to  their  children  and  told 
them  the  story  of  the  ride  taken  on  the  eigh- 
teenth of  April  in  1775  by  the  ancestor  of  the 
girl  who  lighted  the  lanterns  in  the  old  North 
Church. 

The  winter  of  1774-5  was  an  exciting  time 
in  old  Boston  town.  The  colony’s  quarrel 
with  Parliament  and  George  III  grew  hotter. 
Step  by  step  matters  were  coming  to  a crisis. 
The  people  were  determined  to  have  their 
rights  as  Englishmen.  They  would  not  be 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


115 


taxed  unless  they  had  representation  in  the 
body  that  voted  their  taxes. 

Boston  had  resisted  the  stamp  act.  She  had 
thrown  the  tea  into  the  harbor.  Then  by  the 
king’s  orders  her  port  was  closed,  the  assembly 
dissolved. 

Delegates  from  the  various  colonies  had  met 
at  Philadelphia  in  a Continental  Congress  and 
had  petitioned  the  king  and  Parliament  to  re- 
store their  rights.  The  answer  was  the  send- 
ing of  General  Gage  with  four  regiments  of 
soldiers  to  Boston. 

Meanwhile  the  people  of  Massachusetts  or- 
ganized an  assembly  of  their  own.  They  chose 
John  Hancock,  the  rich  Boston  merchant,  as 
president.  They  made  plans  for  summoning 
minute-men,  as  they  called  those  citizens  who 
pledged  themselves  to  be  ready  to  fight  at  a 
minute’s  notice.  They  began  collecting  mili- 
tary stores.  If  the  need  came  they’d  be 
all  prepared  for  war  in  defense  of  their  liber- 
ties. 

All  that  exciting  winter  the  Sons  of  Liberty 
in  Boston  held  secret  meetings.  So  many 
members  there  were  that  they  were  organized 
in  three  sections.  The  one  in  the  North  End 
was  led  by  Dr.  Joseph  Warren  and  his  right- 


116  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


hand  man  was  Paul  Revere,  goldsmith  and  en- 
graver. 

It  was  Revere  who  formed  among  the  work- 
ingmen a patrol  that  for  weeks  watched  the 
movements  of  British  soldiers  in  the  streets  of 
Boston.  Two  by  two  his  thirty  mechanics 
walked  up  and  down  every  thoroughfare  lis- 
tening, listening.  Any  news  of  importance 
they  brought  to  the  Green  Dragon  Tavern  in 
Union  Street,  “the  headquarters  of  the  Revo- 
lution,” as  it  came  to  be  called. 

In  April  the  air  in  the  North  End  of  Bos- 
ton was  charged  with  excitement.  It  was  all 
the  more  intense  because  it  was  smothered. 

The  British,  the  Sons  of  Liberty  knew,  had 
received  orders  from  London  to  seize  all  arms 
and  ammunition,  and  to  arrest  the  two  arch- 
traitors,  Samuel  Adams  and  Hancock,  and 
send  them  to  England.  Too  well  they  knew 
what  that  meant — a trial  for  treason,  the 
Tower  of  London  and  the  block.  In  addition 
a price  was  set  upon  their  heads. 

More  closely  the  patrol  watched  and  lis- 
tened. What  were  the  redcoats  planning? 
Something  out  of  the  ordinary  was  going  on 
in  their  camp. 

On  Saturday,  the  fifteenth  of  the  month, 


117 


LEXINGTON  DAY 

one  of  Revere’s  men  discovered  that  the  gren- 
adiers and  the  light  infantry  had  been  taken 
off  duty.  A second  item  was  reported — all 
the  small  boats  from  the  transports  had  been 
hauled  up  for  repairs  and  anchored  under  the 
sterns  of  the  men-of-war. 

“Plainly,”  said  Paul  Revere  as  he  talked 
over  these  reports  with  Dr.  Warren,  “their 
troops  are  making  ready  to  cross  over  to 
Charlestown.  Are  they  after  the  stores  at 
Concord?  or  after  Mr.  Hancock  and  Mr. 
Adams  at  Lexington?” 

“Perhaps  both.  At  any  rate  our  leaders 
are  in  danger.  Do  you,  Revere,  go  out  to 
Lexington  and  tell  them  what  you’ve  learned. 
They’re  lodging  at  the  parsonage,  you  know — 
the  Reverend  Jonas  Clarke’s.” 

So  on  Sunday  Paul  Revere  mounted  his  big 
gray  horse  and  rode  out  to  Lexington.  It  was 
only  thirteen  miles.  The  big  gray  steed  was 
strong  and  fleet.  And  his  rider  was  a fine 
horseman,  tireless  and  enduring.  By  night  he 
was  back  again. 

Now  that  very  Saturday  the  assembly  which 
had  been  meeting  in  Concord  adjourned  for 
some  weeks.  Its  committee  of  safety  met  on 
Monday,  heard  from  Adams  and  Hancock  the 


118  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


message  brought  by  Revere,  and  voted  to  send 
away  the  supplies  that  had  been  collected. 
The  musket  balls  and  powder  they  would  not 
try  to  hide  all  in  one  place.  To  nine  different 
towns  they  were  sent  for  the  safer  keeping. 
Tents,  medicine  chests  and  linen  were  divided 
among  six.  villages.  Spades  and  shovels, 
salt  fish  and  rice  were  shared  with  other 
towns. 

Meanwhile  back  in  Boston  the  Sons  of  Lib- 
erty were  certain  something  was  afoot.  The 
Somerset,  one  of  the  men-of-war,  had  moved 
up  the  bay.  Her  guns  covered  the  ferry  and 
could  cut  the  patriots  off  from  the  other  side 
of  the  Charles.  Getting  across  might  be  dif- 
ficult. 

So  Paul  Revere  arranged  with  a friend  that 
if  anj^  large  body  of  soldiers  left  the  city,  lan- 
terns should  be  hung  in  the  brick  steeple  of 
Christ  Church — the  Old  North  Church  they 
called  it  even  then;  for  wasn’t  it  the  oldest 
church  in  Boston,  dating  back  to  1728?  One 
light  if  the  British  were  to  march  overland; 
two  if  they  started  by  water.  F rom  that  high 
steeple  the  lights  would  flash  the  message  far 
away. 

Tuesday  night  the  vigilant  patrol  reported, 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


119 


“A  number  of  soldiers  are  moving  toward  the 
bottom  of  the  Common.” 

“Ah!”  said  Paul  Revere  to  himself,  “now 
we  know  their  plans.  Instead  of  marching 
round  by  Boston  Neck  they’ll  cross  to  Charles- 
town and  then  go  west  to  Lexington  and  Con- 
cord.” 

Just  at  that  moment  a boy  came  with  a mes- 
sage. Dr.  Warren  wanted  him  for  an  impor- 
tant errand.  Paul  Revere  was  not  surprised. 
How  many  times  already  he  had  been  the 
trusted  messenger  of  the  committee  of  safety 
— in  December  year  before  last  to  New  York 
over  frozen  roads,  with  news  of  the  Boston  tea 
party;  in  June  to  Philadelphia  to  ask  help 
from  the  other  colonies  when  the  port  of  Bos- 
ton was  closed;  and  again  in  September  he 
brought  from  the  first  Continental  Congress  a 
message  of  approval  and  advice  for  the  patriots 
of  Massachusetts:  Avoid  collision  with  the 

king’s  troops,  act  only  on  the  defensive.  All 
this  was  running  through  Revere’s  mind  as  he 
walked  to  Dr.  Warren’s.  Well,  he  was  ready 
■ — as  ready  as  a minute-man. 

The  doctor  too  was  ready  with  his  instruc- 
tions. 

“William  Dawes  has  already  started  to  Lex- 


120  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


ington  to  give  warning  that  the  British  are 
coming.  He’s  to  go  all  the  way  by  horseback 
over  Boston  Neck.  Do  you,  Revere,  cross 
over  to  Charlestown  and  then  ride  west  on  this 
hurry  call.  One  of  you  may  not  get  through. 
And  if  you  both  succeed,  riding  by  different 
roads  you’ll  warn  that  many  more  of  our  men. 
Dawes  has  the  start  of  you.  Best  set  off  at 
once.  You’ve  twenty  miles  before  you.” 

It  was  after  ten  o’clock. 

Revere  went  to  his  house  in  North  Square, 
took  up  his  overcoat  and  boots  and  walked 
down  to  the  river.  Two  good  friends  rowed 
him  across  the  Charles.  Their  oars  were  muf- 
fled so  that  they  did  not  attract  the  attention  of 
the  watch  on  the  Somerset , lying  a bit  to  the 
west  of  where  they  passed.  Once  ashore  Paul 
Revere  got  a horse  from  Deacon  Larkin  and 
set  out. 

Twenty  miles  it  was  to  Concord  and  the 
night  was  dark.  Before  he  had  gone  far  the 
keen  eyes  of  this  patriot  rider  saw  two  British 
officers  on  horseback,  waiting  under  a tree. 
One  headed  him  off,  the  other  rode  directly 
toward  him.  The  deacon’s  horse  was  turned 
short  about. 

Revere  retraced  his  way  for  a bit.  Then  at 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


121 


a dark  spot  in  the  road  he  struck  off  at  right 
angles  for  the  Medford  highway — not  easy  go- 
ing, but  he  knew  the  lay  of  the  land.  His 
pursuer  got  into  a clay  pond.  Soon  he  had 
outwitted  this  enemy  patrol. 

At  Medford  the  captain  of  the  minute-men 
was  wakened.  He  rubbed  his  eyes.  Sleepily 
he  heard  the  message:  “The  redcoats  are 

coming!  To  arms!”  Then  wide  awake  he 
stared  after  the  sturdy  horseman  already  gal- 
loping up  the  road,  reached  for  his  old  musket 
in  the  chimney  corner  and  called  out  his  men. 

From  Medford  on  Paul  Revere  stopped  at 
almost  every  house,  shouted  out  his  warning 
sentence  and  galloped  westward.  It  was  af- 
ter midnight  when  he  reached  the  green  at 
Lexington.  A little  way  off,  on  the  North 
Road,  stood  the  parsonage.  The  household 
had  just  retired,  for  the  three  men,  Adams 
and  Hancock  and  the  preacher,  had  talked 
late — about  king  and  Parliament,  about  un- 
just laws  and  the  rights  of  British  subjects. 

The  hard  galloping  of  the  deacon’s  horse 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  night. 

“Halt!  Who  goes  there?” 

“A  friend,”  answered  Revere,  “and  in  a 
precious  hurry!” 


122  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


“No  noise,”  cautioned  the  sentry,  one  of" 
eight  men  guarding  the  house. 

“Noise!  You’ll  have  noise  enough  before 
long.  The  regulars  are  coming.  They’re  on 
the  march  and  will  soon  be  among  you.” 
“Come  in,  Revere,”  John  Hancock  called 
out  recognizing  his  voice. 

Into  the  parsonage  went  the  goldsmith  and 
told  his  errand.  Hancock  reached  for  his  gun 
and  fell  to  cleaning  it. 

“I’ll  join  the  minute-men,”  he  declared, 
“and  face  the  enemy.  It  shall  never  be  said 
of  me  that  I turned  my  back  upon  the  British.” 
“No,  no!”  argued  Adams.  “We  have  other 
work  to  do.” 

“If  you  stay  here,”  urged  Paul  Revere, 
“you’re  liable  to  be  captured.  Lives  will  be 
lost.  Time  will  be  wasted.  Get  away  from 
Boston  and  this  neighborhood.  Go  down  to 
Philadelphia.  You’ll  be  needed  there.” 

A half  hour’s  rest  the  deacon’s  horse  had. 
Then  William  Dawes  rode  up  and  Revere 
joined  him. 

“Suppose  I go  on  to  Concord  with  you,” 
said  young  Dr.  Prescott  who  had  been  in  Lex- 
ington that  evening  to  call  on  his  sweetheart. 


LEXINGTON  DAY  123 

“I  know  the  road,  every  inch  of  it,  and  all  the 
houses  where  you  should  stop.” 

Off  rode  the  three  to  carry  their  warning. 
Half  way  to  Concord  they  ran  into  a group  of 
ten  British  officers.  They  were  surrounded 
and  forced  into  a pasture  where  the  bars  were 
down  at  one  side  of  the  road. 

Their  only  chance  of  escape  lay  in  separ- 
ating. Prescott  struck  spurs  to  his  horse, 
jumped  a stone  wall  and  rode  on  all  the  way  to 
Concord,  calling  out  his  message  as  he  gal- 
loped along. 

With  two  of  the  British  pursuing  him 
Dawes  dashed  up  to  an  empty  farmhouse, 
slapped  his  leather  breeches  loudly  and 
shouted,  “Halloo,  boys!  I’ve  got  two  of 
’em!”  Frightened  by  this  Yankee  trick  the 
redcoats  turned  and  fled.  Dawes  too  went  on 
to  Concord.  Both  he  and  Prescott  were  at 
the  bridge  that  day. 

Revere  meanwhile  turned  to  the  right  across 
the  pasture  and  made  for  a little  wood.  His 
plan  was  to  jump  from  his  horse  and  run. 
From  the  shadow  of  the  trees  came  half  a 
dozen  British  officers  on  horseback. 


“Dismount.” 


124  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  obey. 
“What  is  your  name?” 

“Revere.” 

“Paul  Revere?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are  you  an  express?”  For  so  swift  mes- 
sengers were  called  in  colonial  times. 

“Yes.” 

“When  did  you  leave  Boston?” 

He  told  them,  adding,  “Your  troops  ran 
aground  in  crossing  the  river.  Five  hundred 
Americans  will  be  here  in  a short  time,  for  I 
alarmed  the  country  all  the  way  up.” 

With  a redcoat  leading  his  horse  Paul  Re- 
vere went  back  toward  Lexington  in  the  midst 
of  the  group  of  British  officers.  So  many 
dangerous  rides  he  had  taken  for  the  Sons  of 
Liberty,  and  never  before  had  he  been  cap- 
tured. Would  Dawes  or  Prescott  get  safely 
to  Concord  in  time  for  the  minute-men  to  con- 
ceal their  supplies  and  be  ready  to  face  the  en- 
emy? 

Half  a mile  from  the  Lexington  green  they 
heard  a signal  gun  fired.  The  bell  was  ringing. 

“What  does  that  mean?”  asked  the  British 
in  alarm. 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


125 


They  took  the  deacon’s  horse  and  rode  hast- 
ily away.  Their  prisoner  was  free! 

Across  the  fields  Revere  went  and  back  to 
the  Clarke  house.  Adams  and  Hancock  were 
just  starting.  He  went  with  them  for  a couple 
of  miles  and  then  returned  to  Lexington  to  get 
a trunk  filled  with  Hancock’s  papers.  As  he 
carried  it  from  the  tavern  to  a place  of  safety 
he  saw  a group  of  minute-men  lining  up  on 
the  green.  But  he  did  not  join  them.  Hav- 
ing carried  out  his  orders  he  must  go  back  to 
Boston  and  report  to  Dr.  Warren. 

The  alarm  bell  had  rung  in  Lexington.  The 
minute-men  had  assembled.  The  watch  on  the 
Boston  road  reported  no  British  in  sight.  The 
night  was  chilly.  Captain  Parker  dismissed 
his  men  with  orders  to  stay  within  drum  call. 
Those  living  near  by  went  to  their  homes.  The 
others  gathered  in  the  tavern  on  the  north  side 
of  the  green. 

Suddenly  they  heard  the  sound  of  a gallop- 
ing horse  coming  down  the  Boston  road. 

“The  army  of  redcoats  is  half  a mile  away!” 
reported  the  sentinel. 

“Beat  the  drum.  To  arms!  To  arms!” 
cried  Parker. 


126  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


William  Diamond,  the  drummer,  wakened 
the  green  and  hills  near  by  with  his  warlike 
sounds.  From  the  tavern,  from  the  houses 
around,  the  minute-men  came  running.  Ten 
rods  from  the  meeting-house  Captain  Parker 
drew  them  up  in  two  long  lines — seventy-seven 
of  them  counting  the  three  who  went  into  the 
church  for  powder. 

The  east  windows  of  the  meeting-house 
brightened  with  the  rays  of  the  coming  sunrise. 
At  the  edge  of  the  green  appeared  the  first  of 
the  British  soldiers.  In  front  of  his  men  rode 
Major  Pitcairn. 

“Halt!”  he  called  as  he  heard  Diamond’s 
drum  call.  “Load!  Forward  march!” 

Almost  on  the  run  the  redcoats  came  up. 
There  was  a rattle  of  muskets.  There  was  the 
tramping  of  heavy  feet.  The  minute-men  saw 
a dim  mass  of  moving  figures  coming  nearer 
and  nearer.  They  saw  the  gleam  of  musket 
barrels,  the  scarlet  of  uniforms. 

“There  are  so  few  of  us.  It’-s  folly  to 
stand  here,”  said  one  of  the  patriots  to  his 
neighbor. 

Captain  Parker  heard  the  words  and  ex- 
claimed, loud  enough  for  his  seventy-seven 
men  to  hear,  “Don’t  fire  unless  fired  upon. 


LEXINGTON  DAY  127 

But  if  they  mean  to  have  a war,  let  it  begin 
here.” 

“I  will  never  run,”  said  Jonas  Parker  to 
himself. 

A hundred  feet  from  the  two  lines  Pitcairn 
stopped. 

“Disperse,  you  rebels!”  he  shouted.  “Lay 
down  your  arms  and  disperse.” 

Grim  silence  greeted  him.  Not  a minute- 
man  moved.  Not  one  laid  down  his  musket. 
“Fire!”  called  the  British  officer. 

Over  the  heads  of  the  patriots  his  men  fired 
wildly.  Pitcairn  was  angry. 

“Fire  at  them!  at  them!” 

A second  volley.  Seven  Americans  fell. 
Nine  others  were  wounded.  The  patriots  fired 
back.  Two  or  more  of  the  British  were  hit. 

Other  redcoats  came  into  view.  Captain 
Parker  saw  that  they  would  surround  and  cap- 
ture his  little  band.  They  were  ten  to  one. 
Fie  ordered  his  men  to  withdraw. 

“I  will  never  run,”  Jonas  Parker  had  said. 
He  did  not  retire  with  the  others.  Once  more 
he  fired,  his  ammunition  in  his  hat  on  the 
ground  at  his  feet.  Wounded  he  fell  forward. 
He  struggled  to  rise,  tried  to  reload  and  said 
again,  “I  will  never  run.”  Just  where  he  had 


128  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


stood  in  the  first  line  of  the  minute-men,  he 
died  on  the  green  at  Lexington. 

Jonathan  Harrington  too  was  wounded  by 
that  British  volley.  Across  the  green  was  his 
home.  He  staggered  toward  it,  fell,  rose  and 
stumbled  on.  At  the  door  his  wife  met  him. 
He  died  in  her  arms. 

The  British  made  a dash  for  the  Clarke  house. 
They  failed  to  find  Hancock  and  Adams. 
Making  a show  of  victory  they  gave  three 
cheers,  fired  a volley,  and  wheeling  about 
started  down  the  road. 

But  if  Paul  Revere  had  been  captured 
Dawes  and  Prescott  had  carried  the  warning 
to  Concord.  Trained  through  years  of  war- 
fare with  Indians  and  the  French,  the  minute- 
men  were  ready.  Messengers  were  sent  to- 
ward Lexington  and  soon  after  sunrise  gal- 
loped back  with  news  of  the  skirmish  on  the 
green  and  of  the  eight  hundred  redcoats 
marching  westward.  There  was  hurried  con- 
sultation. 

“Let  us  stand  our  ground,”  advised  the  min- 
ister, Mr.  Emerson.  “If  we  die  let  us  die 
here.” 

“It  will  not  do  for  us  to  begin  the  war,”  said 


LEXINGTON  DAY  129 

others  hesitating.  “It  would  be  treason  to  the 
king  if  we  resist.” 

At  seven  o’clock  there  was  a gleam  of  red 
on  the  Lexington  road.  Into  the  village  came 
the  British.  Colonel  Barrett  saw  that  he  was 
outnumbered.  He  marched  his  men  down  to 
the  river  and  took  possession  of  the  bridge  and 
of  the  slope  beyond. 

In  the  center  of  the  town  Major  Pitcairn 
sent  his  men  to  search  for  arms  and  powder. 
They  broke  open  a few  barrels  of  flour.  They 
spiked  three  cannon  and  dumped  five  hundred 
pounds  of  bullets  into  the  millpond.  Angry 
at  finding  so  little  they  chopped  down  a liberty 
pole  and  set  fire  to  the  court-house. 

“Shall  we  let  them  burn  the  whole  village?” 
the  minute-men  began  asking  each  other  when 
they  saw  the  smoke. 

“There’s  a considerable  store  of  ammunition 
at  the  Barrett  house  across  the  river,  sir,”  re- 
ported a British  scout. 

Two  hundred  soldiers  were  sent  in  search 
of  it. 

“Shall  we  let  them  burn  the  town?”  the  min- 
ute-men asked  again. 

“March!”  called  out  their  captain. 


130  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 

In  double  file  they  started  down  the  slope. 
The  redcoats  were  coming  toward  the  bridge. 
Where  now  the  old  gray  monument  stands 
they  formed  in  line  of  battle.  The  Americans 
halted  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge,  where 
now  you  see  the  statue  of  the  Minute-man  with 
his  ready  flintlock  and  powder  horn. 

For  an  instant  British  and  patriot  farmers 
faced  each  other  in  silence. 

Bang!  Bang!  went  two  muskets  of  the 
enemy. 

Then  others — bang!  bang!  bang! 

The  patriot  captain  fell.  Another  minute- 
man  went  down,  another.  The  war  had  begun. 

“Fire!  For  God’s  sake,  fire!”  called  an 
American  officer. 

The  first  battle  of  the  Revolution  spoke  its 
defiance  to  the  king  of  England.  Across  the 
bridge  shots  flew.  Two  British  soldiers  fell. 
Seven  were  wounded.  Then  the  firing  ceased. 
Toward  the  town  the  redcoats  ran.  The  min- 
ute-men held  the  bridge  they  had  defended  so 
valiantly. 

For  an  hour  and  more  the  British  marched 
and  countermarched  in  Concord.  Their  col- 
onel was  uncertain  what  to  do.  He  had  been 
sent  to  arrest  Adams  and  Hancock  and  to  de- 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


131 


stroy  the  stores.  In  both  tasks  he  had  failed. 
His  troops  were  hungry  and  weary,  for  they’d 
been  on  the  march  since  midnight.  They  were 
thoroughly  alarmed.  At  last  the  order  was 
given:  “Right  about  face!  To  Boston!” 

But  by  this  time  more  and  more  minute-men 
had  assembled.  From  Lincoln  and  Acton, 
Concord’s  nearest  neighbors,  they  had  come. 
From  all  the  country  round  farmers  hurried 
up  to  help.  From  both  sides,  from  front 
and  rear  they  attacked  the  British.  The  re- 
turn changed  to  a retreat. 

Not  in  a long  line  as  on  the  Lexington  green, 
but  in  Indian  fashion  from  behind  clumps  of 
trees  and  stone  walls  they  fired  at  the  redcoats. 
All  the  way  from  Concord  the  helpless  Brit- 
ish had  to  run  the  gauntlet.  By  the  time  they 
reached  Lexington  their  ammunition  began  to 
fail. 

There  at  two  o’clock  Lord  Percy  met  them 
with  two  field  pieces  and  twelve  hundred  fresh 
men  from  Boston,  formed  in  a hollow  square. 
Into  this  shelter  the  exhausted  troops  flung 
themselves,  lying  down  on  the  ground  with 
their  tongues  hanging  out  of  their  mouths  like 
those  of  dogs  after  a chase.  With  only  a brief 
rest  the  homeward  march  began  again. 


182  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


But  even  this  reinforcement  could  not  save 
the  day.  The  patriot  forces  grew  so  rapidly, 
as  minute-men  from  thirty  of  the  surrounding 
towns  came  up,  that  the  British  barely  escaped 
capture.  The  attacks  grew  hotter  and  more 
frequent.  Now  and  then  the  redcoats  would 
form,  turn  their  cannon  upon  the  unseen  en- 
emy and  silence  them  for  the  moment.  But 
from  the  stone  walls  that  were  like  ready-made 
breastworks  the  firing  began  again  as  soon  as 
the  line  of  march  was  resumed. 

Panic-stricken  the  British  changed  from 
double-quick  to  a run.  Pell-mell,  helter-skel- 
ter they  stumbled  along,  all  order  lost.  Like 
hounds  worrying  game  the  patriot  farmers 
hung  on  the  skirts  of  this  twenty-mile  retreat, 
firing  at  every  opportunity  for  a good  shot. 
Like  maddened  bees,  or  like  a cloud  of  hornets 
they  swarmed  about  the  enemy. 

“It  rained  rebels!”  one  British  soldier  de- 
scribed the  scene. 

Exhausted,  covered  with  dust,  at  sunset  the 
redcoats  reached  Charlestown.  There  they 
were  safe  under  the  guns  of  their  men-of-war. 
They  had  lost  two  hundred  and  seventy-three 
in  killed  and  wounded. 

“They  have  begun  it,”  Dr.  Warren  com- 


LEXINGTON  DAY 


133 


merited  to  a friend.  “That  either  party  can  do. 
And  we  will  end  it.  That  only  we  can  do.” 

The  news  of  the  nineteenth  of  April  was  car- 
ried by  expresses  to  towns  all  over  New  Eng- 
land and  southward.  From  Georgia  up  to 
Maine  the  thirteen  colonies  were  roused  to  ac- 
tion. The  skirmish  on  the  green  at  Lexing- 
ton, the  fight  at  the  Concord  bridge,  the 
twenty-mile  battle-front  stretching  all  the  way 
to  Charlestown  began  a contest  that  lasted  for 
seven  years  and  ended  only  at  Yorktown. 

At  Lexington  and  Concord  and  all  along 
the  road  to  Boston  the  descendants  of  the  min- 
ute-men of  1775  have  placed  tablets  to  mark 
the  sites  of  the  eventful  happenings  of  that 
April  night  and  day.  On  tavern  and  house- 
front,  on  parsonage  and  stone  walls,  on  the 
green,  near  the  bridge  you  can  see  them  to  the 
number  of  sixty  and  more.  More  than  once 
they  have  acted  out  on  this  N ew  England  holi- 
day the  placing  of  the  lanterns  in  Christ 
Church  and  the  midnight  ride  of  Dawes  and 
Paul  Revere.  They  honor  both  the  horsemen 
who  carried  the  warning,  “The  redcoats  are 
coming — to  arms!”  and  the  minute-men  who 
heard  the  message  and  stood  ready  with  their 
muskets  to  fight  for  liberty. 


THE  NATION  THAT  WOULD 
NOT  DIE 


THE  THIRD  OF  MAY 

In  the  king’s  room  in  the  palace  at  Warsaw 
a little  group  of  patriots  met.  Quietly  the  dis- 
cussion went  on.  Plainly  it  was  a matter  of 
great  moment,  to  judge  from  their  earnest,  se- 
rious faces. 

“Do  you  all  then,”  asked  one  of  the  leaders, 
“solemnly  pledge  yourselves  not  to  separate 
till  our  end  is  accomplished?” 

“We  do,”  came  the  answer.  “It  is  for 
Poland.” 

They  left  the  king’s  room  and  went  into  the 
great  hall  where  the  meetings  of  the  Diet  were 
held.  The  galleries  were  crowded  with  spec- 
tators. Outside  the  palace  wraited  thousands 
of  people  who  could  not  gain  admission. 

The  members  of  the  Diet  took  their  places. 
Three  hundred  and  fifty-four  there  were  when 
all  were  present;  a double  number  in  that 
spring  of  1791  because  when  the  two  years  of 
the  Diet  of  1788  were  nearly  over  and  their 

134 


POLAND 


135 


special  business  was  not  completed,  it  was 
voted  that  new  deputies  should  be  chosen  and 
added  to  those  already  sitting.  How  absurd 
it  would  have  been  to  leave  an  unfinished  task 
to  wholly  new  hands ! 

Ordinarily  one  of  the  marshals  opened  a ses- 
sion of  the  Diet.  Today  King  Stanislas  him- 
self performed  this  office.  The  spectators 
leaned  over  from  the  galleries  to  see  the  better. 
What  a fine-looking,  handsome  man  their  king 
was! 

The  first  business  of  the  day  was  a report 
from  the  committee  of  foreign  affairs.  Close 
attention  the  members  paid  as  it  was  read  by 
the  marshal.  Danger  threatened  the  republic 
of  Poland!  Without  a dissenting  vote  the 
committee  prophesied  a second  partition  of  the 
country. 

Instantly  there  was  the  greatest  excitement 
in  the  Diet.  Another  partition  of  Poland? 
Would  nothing  satisfy  their  powerful  and  am- 
bitious neighbors,  Russia  and  Prussia  and 
Austria  ? 

Only  a few  years  ago,  in  1772,  Poland  had 
been  forced  to  agree  to  a treaty  which  robbed 
her  of  a third  of  her  territory  and  four  millions 
of  her  people.  Immediately  Russian  troops 


136  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


had  been  stationed  in  the  land.  Indignantly 
the  proud  Poles  chafed  under  this  foreign  dic- 
tation. But  it  had  one  good  result.  It  con- 
vinced the  nobles  that  reform  was  needed  if 
their  country  was  ever  to  be  really  free.  From 
this  time  the  anti-Russian  feeling  grew  and 
grew. 

A majority  in  the  Diet  wanted  reform.  But 
they  found  it  by  no  means  easy  to  agree  as  to 
the  details.  Jealously  some  of  the  members 
clung  to  their  old  privileges.  The  debates 
were  endless.  A doubled  Diet  did  not  shorten 
the  discussions.  Indeed  it  meant  doubled  elo- 
quence and  increased  disputes.  After  three 
years  the  business  was  not  finished. 

So  the  little  group  of  patriots  had  met  in  the 
king’s  room,  that  morning  of  the  third  of  May. 
They  had  pledged  themselves  to  push  the  mat- 
ter through  that  day,  while  the  members  op- 
posed to  reform  were  still  away  for  the  Easter 
recess. 

The  excitement  caused  by  the  talk  of  a sec- 
ond partition  was  at  its  height.  One  of  the 
deputies  called  on  the  king  to  devise  some 
means  to  save  the  country. 

In  answer  to  this  appeal  Stanislas  declared, 
“It  is  my  conviction  that  the  only  way  to  at- 


POLAND 


137 


tain  safety  is  to  establish  a new  constitution. 
The  proposed  plan  for  such  a constitution  I 
hold  in  my  hands.  I urge  the  members  of  the 
Diet  to  accept  it.  It  is  the  last,  it  is  the  best 
way  to  save  Poland.” 

The  constitution  was  drafted  in  French,  the 
work  of  king  and  patriot  committee.  It  was 
modeled  on  the  English  constitution  and  on 
the  one  so  recently  made  by  the  United  States. 
But  its  details  were  adapted  to  the  special 
needs  of  Poland. 

Clause  by  clause  the  constitution  was  read, 
beginning  with  the  famous  words  used  on  a 
similar  occasion  by  the  National  Assembly  of 
France : 

“All  power  in  a state  emanates  from  the  will 
of  the  nation.” 

Quietly  the  members  of  the  Diet  listened. 
Those  who  were  not  in  the  secret  were  aston- 
ished at  the  sweeping  changes  made  in  the 
government.  They  approved  of  abolishing 
the  old,  old  veto  which  allowed  one  man  to  say 
“I  forbid !”  thus  ending  all  discussion  of  a mea- 
sure, ending  too  that  session  of  the  Diet.  Yes, 
in  public  affairs  a majority  should  rule. 

The  marshal  read  on.  More  and  more 
changes — the  townspeople  to  have  a vote!  the 


138  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


peasants  to  be  under  the  law’s  protection!  an 
established  church  for  Poland,  but  no  religious 
persecution  for  other  faiths!  a national  army 
of  one  hundred  thousand  men,  to  be  under  the 
command  of  the  king!  Why,  why,  this  meant 
doing  away  with  the  men-at-arms  who  for  cen- 
turies had  fought  under  the  banners  of  their 
nobles.  This  meant  an  army  now  for  Poland. 

But  most  important  of  all  was  the  para- 
graph declaring  the  crown  hereditary.  Xo 
longer  elect  their  king  by  popular  vote?  The 
marshal  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  a voice 
of  protest.  A man  pushed  his  way  toward  the 
throne.  Throwing  himself  at  the  king’s  feet 
he  implored  Stanislas  to  abandon  this  idea. 

“It  will  be  fatal  to  the  liberty  of  Poland!” 
he  cried. 

“Xay,  nay,”  cried  several  members,  “it  will 
end  forever  the  uncertain,  disturbed  period  be- 
tween the  death  of  a king  and  the  choice  of  a 
new  ruler.  It  is  that  that’s  been  fatal  to 
Poland!” 

The  patriots  who  had  met  in  the  king’s  room 
that  morning  now  left  their  seats  and  rushed 
into  the  center  of  the  hall. 

“Swear,  swear!”  they  loudly  demanded. 
“Swear  here  and  now!” 


POLAND 


139 


The  bishop  of  Cracow  was  called  to  the 
throne.  At  his  hands  Stanislas  took  an  oath 
on  the  gospels  to  defend  the  new  constitution. 
The  better  to  be  seen  by  the  members  of  the 
Diet  and  by  the  crowds  in  the  gallery,  he 
mounted  on  the  seat  and  swore  aloud. 

With  one  accord  the  members  held  up  their 
right  hands  and  pledged  themselves. 

“I  have  sworn,”  said  Stanislas  with  emotion, 
“and  I will  never  swerve  from  it.  Let  every 
man  that  loves  his  country  follow  me  to  the 
cathedral  of  St.  John,  and  thanking  God  let 
us  repeat  the  oath  at  the  altar.” 

“Long  live  the  king!  Long  live  the  consti- 
tution!” answered  the  Diet. 

What  a procession  that  was  from  palace  to 
cathedral!  King  and  ministers,  members  of 
the  Diet,  bishops  and  visitors  marched  through 
the  streets  of  Warsaw.  Cheering  and  ap- 
plauding, the  crowds  of  people  waiting  outside 
the  palace  made  way  for  them. 

In  their  seats  in  the  great  hall  sat  twelve 
members  who  were  opposed  to  reform.  They 
were  gloomily  silent. 

Before  the  high  altar  at  St.  John’s,  king  and 
members  recited  the  oath  of  loyalty.  The  Te 
Deum  was  sung.  The  noise  of  two  hundred 


140  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


cannon  greeted  the  announcement  of  the  new 
constitution.  The  people’s  cries  of  joy  filled 
the  air.  All  night  the  streets  of  Warsaw  were 
ablaze  with  illuminations. 

Two  days  later  the  members  of  the  Diet 
signed  the  new  instrument  of  government.  It 
made  Poland  a monarchy  of  the  modern  type, 
in  an  age  when  the  rest  of  Europe  had  not  be- 
gun to  dream  of  a constitution.  It  was  not 
perfect  judged  by  our  standards  of  today, 
but  it  was  a long  step  in  the  right  direction. 

The  Diet  voted  that  this  important  event 
should  be  remembered  and  celebrated  each 
year.  Thus  the  third  of  May  became  the  great 
holiday  of  Poland. 

From  almost  every  state  in  Europe  congrat- 
ulations poured  in  on  Stanislas.  This  was  in- 
deed the  triumph  of  his  life.  His  ally,  the  king 
of  Prussia,  wrote  a letter  of  well-wishing. 
The  pope  sent  a message  of  congratulation. 
English  statesmen  who  had  deplored  the 
French  Revolution  were  enthusiastic  in  their 
admiration  for  Poland’s  new  constitution,  a 
model  of  its  kind. 

“It  is  a work,”  said  Fox,  “in  which  every 
friend  to  reasonable  liberty  must  be  sincerely 
interested.” 


POLAND 


141 


And  Burke  exclaimed,  “Humanity  must  re- 
joice and  glory  when  it  considers  the  change  in 
Poland!” 

In  all  the  history  of  the  world  is  there  any 
revolution  like  this?  It  came  without  the 
shedding  of  one  drop  of  blood.  It  came  with- 
out the  uprising  of  an  oppressed  class,  over- 
turning society  to  obtain  its  rights.  Volun- 
tarily the  nobles  of  Poland  voted  to  restrict 
their  ancient  privileges  which  dated  back  to 
the  fourteenth  century. 

But  no  congratulations  came  from  Catherine 
of  Russia.  Her  alarm  was  the  best  proof  of 
the  excellence  of  the  new  constitution.  Her 
consternation  showed  how  much  it  promised 
of  restored  strength  to  Poland. 

But  alas ! The  third  of  May  came  too  late 
to  save  the  nation.  The  foreign  relations  com- 
mittee had  ample  cause  for  fear.  Poland’s 
neighbors  were  powerful  and  ambitious.  The 
last  thing  in  the  world  they  wanted  was  a re- 
organized Poland  with  a new  constitution,  with 
a large  army,  with  a king  who  was  no  longer 
a figurehead. 

While  preparations  were  making  in  1792 
for  a celebration  on  the  third  of  May  Russia 
declared  war.  On  the  nineteenth  of  the  month 


142  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


the  tramp  of  alien  armies  was  heard  on  Pol- 
ish soil.  Eighty  thousand  Russian  soldiers 
marched  across  the  border.  With  them  came 
twenty  thousand  Cossacks. 

The  constitution  had  provided  for  an  army 
of  one  hundred  thousand.  But  Poland  had 
not  had  time  or  money  to  raise  and  equip  that 
many  soldiers.  Against  the  Russians  she 
could  muster  a bare  twenty  thousand. 

Stanislas  appealed  to  his  ally  Prussia.  The 
answer  was,  “We  agreed  to  help  the  Poland  of 
the  old  constitution,  not  the  new.”  She  ap- 
pealed to  England  and  to  France.  But  no 
help  came.  Her  little  army  was  defeated. 

1793  saw  the  second  partition  of  Poland 
carried  through.  Her  territory  was  again 
taken  by  her  neighbors,  again  four  millions 
of  her  people.  The  treaty  providing  for  this 
cession  of  land  was  read  in  the  Diet.  In 
gloomy  silence  the  members  listened.  A vote 
was  called  for.  Not  one  member  responded. 

“Silence  gives  consent,”  declared  the  mar- 
shal. 

But  the  Poles  proud  of  their  past,  of  their 
noble  traditions,  refused  tamely  to  accept 
these  terms.  Under  the  leadership  of  Kos- 
ciusko they  formed  the  people’s  insurrection. 


POLAND  143 

Bravely  they  fought  with  all  the  valor  and 
courage  of  their  ancestors. 

Success  was  theirs — for  a time.  They  de- 
layed the  Russian  advance.  They  raised  the 
siege  of  Warsaw.  They  drove  out  the  foreign 
garrisons.  Bit  by  bit  they  won  back  three- 
fourths  of  their  ancient  territory. 

Then  Russia  moved  more  troops  up  from 
Turkey  and  hurled  them  against  Poland.  The 
king  of  Prussia  came  himself  to  lead  his  armies. 
In  October  of  1794  Kosciusko’s  little  force  was 
finally  vanquished. 

The  following  year  saw  the  third  and  last 
partition  of  the  country.  Austria,  Russia  and 
Prussia  each  took  a share.  The  names  of  the 
districts  were  altered.  The  laws  of  Poland 
were  suspended.  Another  language  was  used. 

The  constitution  of  1791,  written  on  parch- 
ment, lay  in  a beautiful  casket  in  the  Kremlin 
palace  at  Moscow.  From  the  map  of  Europe 
the  word  Poland  was  erased.  So  came  to  an 
end  the  history  of  the  Polish  republic. 

But  it  was  not  the  end  of  the  Polish  nation. 
The  combined  might  of  her  three  despoilers, 
even  of  all  Europe  could  not  kill  this  people 
that  had  such  a passionate  will  to  live.  They 
were  unconquerable. 


144  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


They  were  a nation  with  a great  and  noble 
past  through  a thousand  years  of  history.  F or 
centuries  they  had  stood  as  the  bulwark  of 
Europe  against  the  invasions  of  Turk  and 
Mongol  from  the  east.  Persecuted  and  dis- 
owned after  this  third  partition,  their  spiritual 
force  grew  not  the  less,  but  greater. 

The  third  of  May  shall  be  celebrated  each 
year  to  keep  alive  the  memory  of  the  new  con- 
stitution, had  been  the  decree  of  the  Diet.  For 
more  than  a century  the  day  was  celebrated, 
though  often  and  often  in  secret.  Fathers  told 
its  story  to  their  children  and  pledged  them 
anew  in  loyal  service  to  Poland.  Mothers  told 
their  sons  and  promised  when  they  were  old 
enough,  they  too  should  fight  for  Poland. 
From  generation  to  generation  they  trans- 
mitted the  watchword  of  protest  against  a for- 
eign yoke. 

At  every  change  in  Europe,  in  the  wars  of 
Napoleon,  in  the  many  struggles  in  which 
Austria  and  Russia  and  Prussia  had  a part,  the 
Poles  too  fought.  Now  they  were  on  this  side, 
now  on  that,  wherever  there  seemed  a chance 
to  fight  for  Poland.  The  name  and  fame  of 
the  Polish  Legion  was  like  that  of  their  ances- 
tors’ regiment  of  hussars  distinguished  by  the 


POLAND 


145 


splendid  wings  of  eagles’  feathers,  which  on 
many  a battlefield  charged  the  foe  and  swept 
all  before  them. 

Time  after  time  the  Poles  rose  in  revolt 
against  Russia.  They  were  determined  that 
some  day  there  should  be  again  a Poland  on 
the  map  of  Europe.  This  was  their  great 
dream,  the  vision  which  held  them  to  their  diffi- 
cult task.  It  kept  them  loyal  and  patriotic 
in  spite  of  persecution  and  sufferings. 

In  front  of  the  Polish  Museum  at  Rapper- 
swill  in  Switzerland — for  even  their  national 
museum  was  exiled — stands  a great  column 
bearing  the  dates  of  all  these  insurrections. 
Each  generation  has  witnessed  one  or  more. 
Always  Poland  waited  for  the  favorable  mo- 
ment to  regain  her  independence.  Interrupted 
but  not  ended  was  her  role  in  history.  In  the 
hearts  of  Poles  their  country  never  ceased  to 
live.  Her  freedom  was  their  one  ideal. 

After  a hundred  and  twenty  years  of  mis- 
fortune and  defeat  and  disappointments  the 
world  war  brought  the  opportunity  for  which 
Poland  had  been  waiting.  In  the  discussions 
following  the  armistice  of  November,  1918  she 
asked  a hearing.  In  the  shifting  of  boundaries 
made  by  the  treaty  of  Versailles  the  country 


146  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


was  recreated.  On  the  new  map  of  Europe 
Poland  shows.  She  has  a new  constitution 
more  democratic  than  that  of  1791,  just  as  it 
was  more  progressive  than  the  constitution  of 
any  state  in  Europe  of  that  day. 

No  longer  is  the  third  of  May  celebrated  in 
secret.  No  longer  is  there  any  fear  that  the 
parades  in  Warsaw  will  be  scattered  by  Cos- 
sacks with  their  terrible  whips.  No  longer  do 
Polish  fathers  pledge  their  sons  to  fight  for 
Poland.  Now  young  and  old,  they  pledge 
themselves  to  serve  her  loyally  and  well. 

Under  the  new  flag  of  white  and  red,  the 
flag  of  the  new  Poland,  they  celebrate  the  third 
of  May. 


IN  THE  CORNER  OF  A SOUTHERN 
CHURCHYARD 


THE  THIRTIETH  OF  MAY 

“Oh,  what  lovely  roses  1” 

“What  beautiful  lilacs  you  have!  How 
fragrant  they  are!” 

As  they  went  toward  the  churchyard  the  lit- 
tle group  of  women  exclaimed  over  the  flowers 
they  carried.  But  their  thoughts  were  far 
away  with  the  army  of  Virginia  or  with  the 
troops  defending  Vicksburg.  They  thought 
too  of  the  soldiers  in  gray  who  had  given  their 
lives  at  Shiloh  and  Corinth  and  Stone  River. 
N ot  one  of  these  southern  women  but  had  lost 
husband  or  son  or  brother  in  those  desperate 
battles. 

Two  short  years  before  they  had  seen  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  There  had  been  flags 
proudly  waving,  the  rat-a-tat  of  drums,  the 
silver  bugles  calling,  the  dauntless  fife;  then 
the  parting  and  their  men  marching  away  un- 
der the  stars  and  bars. 

147 


148  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Since  then  there  had  been  for  the  women  of 
the  South  suffering  and  weary  waiting;  and 
for  the  men  in  gray  long  marches,  battlefield 
and  whirlwind  charge,  guard  kept  in  wild 
storm  or  under  the  quiet  stars,  and  for  some  of 
them  hospital  days  and  death. 

On  that  April  morning  in  1863  this  little 
group  of  women  in  Columbus,  Mississippi 
went  together  to  decorate  the  graves  of  their 
soldier  dead.  Roses,  lilacs,  lilies,  all  the  flow- 
ers of  that  spring  month  they  had  gathered. 
Over  the  low  mounds  in  the  churchyard  they 
strewed  their  blossoms,  shedding  tears  in 
memory  of  their  loved  ones. 

“Oh!”  cried  a woman  of  the  group,  “what 
are  you  doing?” 

Having  finished  decorating  the  grave  of  her 
two  sons  an  elderly  lady  was  walking  up  the 
path  toward  a corner  of  the  churchyard.  Her 
arms  were  filled  with  lilacs  and  roses,  red  and 
white. 

“Do  you  forget,”  the  first  woman  cried, 
“whose  graves  those  are?  They’re  two  LTnion 
soldiers.  They’re  Yankees  who — ” 

“Hush!”  said  the  mother  of  the  two  heroes. 
“You  are  wrong.  I do  not  forget.  They  are 


MEMORIAL  DAY 


149 


nameless  graves  marking  where  two  soldiers 
lie  buried.  But  somewhere  in  the  North,  in 
some  city  or  little  village  or  perhaps  in  some 
lonely  farmhouse,  a mother  or  a young  wife  or 
sweetheart  mourns  for  them  just  as  you  and  I 
grieve  for  our  dead.” 

She  turned  back  to  the  unmarked  graves 
and  stooped  down.  Gently  she  pushed  aside 
the  long  grass.  Tenderly  she  spread  her  flow- 
ers over  the  two  mounds.  With  tears  in  her 
eyes,  but  with  her  head  held  proudly  she  faced 
the  women  who  had  silently  gathered  about 
her. 

“We  bring  these  flowers,”  she  pointed  to  the 
grave  of  her  sons,  then  to  others  decked  with 
blossoms,  “to  express  our  love  and  devotion. 
They  are  dead,  our  heroes  of  the  South.  They 
are  dead,  these  unknown  soldiers  of  the  North, 
lying  here  in  our  churchyard  in  Columbus  in 
nameless  graves.  But  when  the  war  is  over 
and  peace  comes  again  we  shall  call  them  all 
heroes.  So  here  are  my  lilacs  and  my  roses, 
red  and  white  and  blue,  for  both  alike.” 

“And  mine.” 

“And  mine.” 

“And  mine  too,”  said  the  other  women 


150  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


softly  as  they  added  their  flowers  to  the  lovely 
blossoms  on  the  unmarked  graves  in  the  cor- 
ner. 

The  next  April  and  the  next  the  women  of 
Columbus  repeated  this  beautiful  deed  though 
with  each  year  their  privations  and  suffering 
were  greater,  the  losses  of  the  South  more  ir- 
reparable. More  and  more  graves  filled  the 
churchyard,  graves  of  brave  Southerners  who 
fell  at  Vicksburg  and  Chancellorsville,  at  Get- 
tysburg and  in  the  Wilderness ; graves  of  brave 
Northerners  who  died  in  the  South  fighting 
for  the  Union. 

More  and  more  women  joined  the  group  that 
went  each  spring  to  decorate  the  graves  of  sol- 
diers who  had  worn  the  gray,  who  had  worn 
the  blue.  With  their  flowers  they  covered  all 
the  mounds  in  the  churchyard  as  impartially 
as  the  sunshine  falls  upon  the  just  and  the 
unjust. 

A little  thing  perhaps — to  strew  blossoms 
on  a grave.  But  from  this  act  of  the  women 
of  Columbus  came,  the  most  beautiful  of  our 
holidays. 

When  the  fighting  had  been  over  for  two 
years,  but  while  there  were  still  great  bitter- 
ness and  resentment  in  many  hearts  both 


MEMORIAL  DAY 


151 


North  and  South,  the  New  York  Tribune 
printed  a brief  dispatch  telling  the  story  of 
these  southern  women.  In  towns  and  villages 
all  through  the  northern  states  that  paragraph 
was  republished.  The  people  were  thrilled 
with  tenderness.  Their  hearts  were  touched. 
As  nothing  else  could  have  done,  those  few 
sentences  called  out  friendship  and  love  to  re- 
place sectional  hatred  and  passion. 

“Flowers  for  the  graves  of  northern  and 
southern  soldiers  alike — for  the  blue  and  for 
the  gray!”  exclaimed  the  North.  “Peace  has 
come  indeed.  We  are  not  enemies,  but 
friends.  With  malice  toward  none,  with 
charity  for  all— and  it  is  the  bereaved,  suffer- 
ing women  of  the  South  who  set  us  the  exam- 
ple. We  are  brothers  again,  not  foes.  No 
longer  a North  and  a South,  but  the  Union. 
And  Union  means  peace  and  harmony  and 
good  will.” 

Early  in  May  of  1868  it  was  suggested  to 
General  John  A.  Logan,  then  national  com- 
mander of  the  G.  A.  R.,  that  their  organiza- 
tion borrow  this  beautiful  custom  and  have  a 
uniform  day  for  decorating  the  graves  of  their 
fallen  comrades.  Logan  issued  an  order  nam- 
ing the  thirtieth  of  May,  choosing  this  date  be- 


152  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


cause  it  marked  the  discharge  of  the  last  sol- 
dier in  the  Union  army. 

Touched  by  the  story  of  the  Mississippi 
women  and  the  beauty  of  their  custom,  state 
after  state  in  the  North  declared  this  day  a 
holiday.  In  some  of  the  southern  states  May 
tenth  is  observed.  Louisiana  has  the  third 
of  June.  In  four  states  it  is  April  twenty- 
sixth. 

Throughout  the  South,  throughout  the 
North,  not  a city  or  town  or  village  but  sent 
its  men  to  the  war,  dressed  in  blue  or  dressed 
in  gray.  To  some  of  those  homes,  North  and 
South,  soldiers  came  not  back  when  the  war 
was  ended.  So  North  and  South  alike  honor 
them  with  the  coming  of  each  springtime. 

As  nature  covers  over  scars  of  battle  and 
decorates  with  her  living  green,  so  the  strewing 
of  flowers  on  the  graves  of  our  soldiers  has 
been  an  effective  agent  in  healing  over  the 
wounds  of  civil  war.  The  suffering,  the  ter- 
ror, the  losses  of  the  war  North  and  South 
alike  regret.  But  in  that  struggle  the  nation 
was  remade.  Fighting,  falling,  dying  were  the 
steps  toward  the  future  when  we  should  be  in- 
deed one  nation,  united  and  inseparable. 

Not  holidays,  but  holy  days  are  these  me- 


MEMORIAL  DAY 


153 


morial  days  when  North  and  South  pause  in 
the  busy  work  of  the  modern  world  and  pay 
tribute  to  the  heroes  in  blue  and  in  gray  who 
lost  their  lives  that  the  Union  might  endure. 
Nor  do  we  remember  only  the  soldiers  of  the 
civil  war.  In  1899  the  veterans  of  the  Spanish 
war  began  decorating  the  graves  of  their  com- 
rades. In  May  of  1919  men  who  had  fought  in 
France  and  in  the  fields  of  Flanders  paid  trib- 
ute to  their  soldier  dead.  Peasant  women  and 
children  of  France  living  near  the  battle  front 
gathered  flowers  to  lay  on  the  graves  of  Ameri- 
can soldiers  who  had  died  overseas. 

“We  do  this,”  they  explained  simply,  “not 
as  strangers,  but  for  their  mothers  who  are  far 
away.” 

Lilacs,  roses  red  and  white,  the  poppies  that 
grow  in  Flanders  fields,  wild  flowers  from  the 
roadside — all  serve  for  our  memorial  days. 
With  love  and  tears  we  pay  this  honor  to  our 
soldiers.  And  in  the  doing  we  rekindle  our 
own  patriotism  and  dedicate  ourselves  anew 
to  the  nation  for  which  they  sacrificed  their 
lives. 


“WE  MUST  ALL  HANG  TOGETHER” 


THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY 

In  the  city  of  Philadelphia  that  eighth  of 
July  in  the  year  1776  there  was  eager  discus- 
sion. Everywhere  was  an  undercurrent  of 
excitement.  It  seemed  to  center  around  the 
red  brick  State  House. 

People  began  to  gather — men  and  women, 
a few  children.  More  and  more  came  until 
there  was  a crowd  in  the  yard,  standing  close 
up  around  the  platform  that  had  been  built 
for  quite  another  purpose — built  seven  years 
before  by  a scientific  society  for  astronomical 
observations. 

In  the  air  was  a tense,  overwrought  feeling 
that  increased  as  time  passed  and  noon  came 
nearer.  The  crowd  in  the  State  House  yard 
was  very  grave.  This  was  a solemn  occasion. 
However  things  ended  this  was  a crisis  in  the 
affairs  of  the  colonies. 

Thoughtful  men  in  that  Quaker  city  had 
watched  for  years  the  ebb  and  flow  of  a tide 

154 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  155 


in  the  relations  of  England  to  her  settlements 
in  the  new  world.  The  closing  of  the  port  of 
Boston,  the  sending  of  British  troops  and 
quartering  them  on  the  people,  the  orders  to 
arrest  Hancock  and  Adams,  the  expedition 
to  Lexington  and  Concord — these  had  been 
successive  stages  of  the  tide. 

Slow  but  never  stopping,  of  late  it  had  been 
coming  with  a rush  and  a roar.  When  fight- 
ing began  at  the  green  in  Lexington  and  at 
the  Concord  bridge  there  was  scarcely  a man  in 
all  America  who  talked  of  independence. 
They  were  Englishmen  asking,  demanding 
from  Parliament  and  king  their  rights  as  loyal 
subjects  of  George  III.  But  now,  as  when 
each  fresh  wave  rolls  in  with  ever  rising 
strength,  now  the  sentiment  in  favor  of  inde- 
pendence had  been  growing  stronger  and 
stronger. 

So  a tall,  grave  sailor  talked  with  two 
friends  in  the  crowd  that  Monday  morning  in 

July. 

“You’re  wrong  to  say  the  tide,”  interposed 
his  companion.  “That  comes  and  goes  each 
day,  nay,  twice  a day.  This  is  something 
deeper,  stronger,  more  important  in  every  way. 
Why  don’t  you  compare  it  to  a glacier  whose 


156  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


movement  may  be  slow  at  first,  but  increases 
as  it  moves  down  the  mountain  side?  This 
didn’t  begin  a year  ago  last  April.  Why,  man, 
you  want  to  go  back  at  least  eleven  years,  back 
to  the  stamp  act  and  Patrick  Henry’s  speech, 
back  to  the  war  with  the  F rench  and  the  ques- 
tion of  how  its  debts  were  to  be  paid.” 

“Aye,  he’s  right  there,”  said  the  third  man. 
“And  thou  art  right  too  when  thou  sayest  no- 
body, or  maybe  a dozen  men  in  all  these  thir- 
teen colonies,  thought  of  independence  a year 
ago.  Today  it’s  on  every  man’s  tongue.  ’Tis 
the  king  himself  who’s  driven  us  to  it.  Injus- 
tice has  killed  our  affection  for  him.  Proof 
that  the  people  have  been  thinking  it  over? 
Look  at  the  crowd  out  this  Monday  noon  when 
the  sheriff  is  to  read  the  new  declaration  that 
Congress  voted  for  last  Thursday.” 

“It  was  that  young  lawyer  from  Virginia 
said  we  raised  our  army  with  no  idea  of  sepa- 
ration from  the  mother  country.  And  now,” 
commented  the  sailor  with  a smile,  “they  say 
he’s  the  very  man  who  wrote  this  declaration  of 
independence.” 

“Aye,  but  that  was  a year  ago.  Think  of 
what’s  happened  since — the  royal  governors 
driven  out  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina, 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  157 


Norfolk  bombarded,  Portland  burned,  Canada 
invaded,  the  British  forced  to  give  up  Boston, 
the  Hessians  hired  to  fight  us.” 

“What  a catalogue  you  roll  up!  Isn’t  it  al- 
most a farce  when  we’ve  been  fighting  for  more 
than  a year,  to  keep  on  talking  of  ourselves  as 
loyal  Englishmen  instead  of  independent 
Americans?” 

“Thou’rt  quoting  Tom  Paine  and  his  fa- 
mous pamphlet,  Common  Sense.  A man 
must  agree  with  much  he  says.  But  it’s  so 
grave  a business,  friend.  Our  hands  once  put 
to  the  plough  there’s  no  turning  back.” 

“Look,  there  comes  the  committee  of  safety.” 
There  was  more  than  one  straw  showing 
that  the  wind  of  public  opinion  was  pointing  in 
a new  direction.  As  early  as  May  of  ’75  a 
county  in  North  Carolina  had  adopted  resolu- 
tions touching  on  independence  and  sent  them 
to  their  delegates  in  the  Continental  Congress 
at  Philadelphia.  But  they  thought  the  time 
not  yet  ripe  to  lay  the  suggestion  before  that 
body. 

Waiting  a year  North  Carolina  instructed 
her  representatives  to  concur  with  other  mem- 
bers of  Congress  in  a declaration  of  independ- 
ence. In  May  Virginia  went  a step  farther 


158  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


and  told  her  delegates  to  propose  such  a dec- 
laration. Georgia  and  Rhode  Island  and 
South  Carolina  expressed  a willingness  to 
agree  to  any  measures  which  Congress  thought 
would  promote  the  general  welfare.  All  dur- 
ing May  town  meetings  in  Massachusetts  put 
themselves  on  record  in  favor  of  independence. 

A j^ear  ago  that  very  month  Massachusetts 
had  framed  a government  for  herself,  which 
in  no  way  recognized  the  king  of  England. 
New  Hampshire  had  followed  her  example, 
then  South  Carolina.  In  May  Congress  ad- 
vised the  other  colonies  to  form  newr  govern- 
ments, changing  themselves  into  states  because 
George  III  had  withdrawn  his  protection. 
Wasn’t  that  almost  a declaration  of  independ- 
ence? After  hot  debate  and  earnest  opposi- 
tion from  the  middle  colonies  Congress  voted 
for  this  measure. 

That  May  was  an  interesting  month  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  June  more  so.  On  Friday  the 
seventh,  obeying  the  instructions  of  his  colony 
of  Virginia,  Richard  Henry  Lee,  the  oldest 
member  of  the  delegation,  rose  and  read  to 
Congress  a resolution  “that  these  United  Col- 
onies are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  in- 
dependent States ; that  they  are  absolved  from 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY 


159 


all  allegiance  to  the  British  Crown;  and  that 
all  political  connection  between  them  and  the 
State  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be,  to- 
tally dissolved.”  The  next  paragraph  pro- 
posed that  a plan  of  confederation  be  prepared 
and  sent  to  the  colonies  for  consideration.  In- 
dependence and  union  hand  in  hand ! 

Quickly  John  Adams  of  Massachusetts  sec- 
onded the  proposal.  The  debate  began  at 
once  and  continued  on  Saturday  and  Monday. 
Two  men  from  Pennsylvania  and  Livingston 
of  New  York  led  the  opposition.  The  people 
of  the  middle  colonies,  they  said,  were  not 
ready  to  break  off  relations  with  the  mother 
country. 

“The  Tories  are  stronger  in  New  York  than 
elsewhere,”  they  urged.  “Our  grievances  are 
fewer.  We  have  more  to  risk  than  any  other 
colony— invasion  from  Canada,  an  attack  by 
the  powerful  British  fleet,  on  the  west  the  ter- 
rible Iroquois,  at  every  point  we  are  exposed. 
Indeed  we’re  not  less  patriotic  than  other 
places.  But  wait — perhaps  a change  of  min- 
isters in  England  will  adjust  all  our  diffi- 
culties.” 

Pushed  to  the  wall  they  acknowledged  that 
lingering  hopes  of  settling  the  trouble  were  a 


160  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


dream  and  a delusion.  Yet  they  hesitated  to 
take  the  final  step. 

“The  middle  colonies,”  commented  Jeffer- 
son comparing  them  to  fruit  in  an  orchard, 
“are  not  yet  matured  for  falling  from  the  par- 
ent stem,  but  fast  advancing  to  that  state.” 

It  was  highly  important  that  all  the  colonies 
think  together  and  work  together.  If  the  van- 
guard was  marching  too  fast  the  laggards  must 
be  given  time  to  catch  up.  Further  discussion 
was  postponed  until  the  first  day  of  July.  By 
that  time  Congress  could  hear  from  those  col- 
onies which  had  not  yet  declared  themselves. 

But  they  must  guard  against  losing  time 
when  the  resolution  was  taken  up  again.  A 
committee  was  named  to  prepare  a declaration 
of  independence,  to  be  ready  when  wanted. 
Its  members  were  chosen  by  vote:  Thomas 

Jefferson  of  Virginia,  John  Adams,  Dr. 
Franklin,  Roger  Sherman  of  Connecticut  and 
Robert  R.  Livingston  of  Yew  York— three 
lawyers,  a printer  and  a shoemaker.  Richard 
Henry  Lee  was  absent,  suddenly  called  to  Vir- 
ginia by  the  illness  of  his  wife. 

The  committee  met  and  with  one  voice  the 
four  members  urged  that  Jefferson  write  the 
declaration  stating  the  reasons  for  the  war  and 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY 


161 


for  separation  from  England.  He  was  only 
thirty-two,  but  they  all  knew  why  he  had  been 
chosen,  with  more  votes  than  any  of  them.  He 
was  no  orator,  but  a brilliant  writer.  He  had 
a ready  and  eloquent  pen.  America  called 
upon  him  now  to  use  it.  And  there  was  an- 
other motive.  Jefferson  had  no  enemies.  He 
had  taken  no  share  in  the  debates  in  Congress. 
There  would  be  no  risk  of  any  interference 
from  personal  feelings.  Therefore  the  mem- 
bers had  put  him  first  on  the  committee.  The 
natural  result  was  that  he  did  the  bulk  of  its 
work. 

In  a new  brick  house  at  what  is  now  the 
corner  of  Market  and  Seventh  Streets,  but  was 
then  out  in  the  fields  Jefferson  had  rented  a 
furnished  parlor  and  bedroom  on  the  second 
floor.  In  that  parlor,  writing  on  a little  desk 
three  inches  high,  he  spent  three  weeks  on  a 
first  draft. 

He  was  the  mouthpiece  of  America.  With- 
out using  books  or  pamphlets  he  wrote  out  in 
clear,  plain  paragraphs  what  the  people  had 
been  thinking  and  saying.  Here  and  there  he 
changed  phrases.  He  hunted  for  just  the 
right  word  to  express  his  meaning  and  not  give 
undue  offense.  Frequently  he  stopped  to  take 


162  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


up  his  beloved  violin  and  play.  In  time  of 
work  and  stress  it  never  failed  to  divert  him. 

Before  the  end  of  June  he  showed  his  paper 
to  Franklin  and  to  Adams  separately.  He 
asked  for  corrections.  Only  two  or  three  they 
were;  you  can  see  them,  interlined  in  their 
handwritings,  in  the  original  draft  in  the  De- 
partment of  State  in  Washington. 

Then  the  committee  was  called  together. 
The  report  with  the  suggestions  of  Adams  and 
Franklin  embodied  in  it  was  adopted.  Jeffer- 
son wrote  out  a fresh  copy. 

Quickly  June  passed  into  July.  On  Mon- 
day the  first  the  fifty  members  of  Congress  de- 
clared themselves  a committee  of  the  whole  and 
took  up  the  Lee  resolution.  There  was  more 
debate  and  a vote  was  called  for.  Now  in  the 
Continental  Congress  members  voted  not  as 
individuals,  but  as  colonies.  Three  to  two,  or 
six  to  five,  or  eight  to  one,  the  majority  of  votes 
in  each  delegation  determined  the  vote  of  that 
colony,  yes  or  no,  for  or  against  any  motion. 
A two-thirds  vote  wras  necessary  to  carry,  nine 
out  of  thirteen. 

On  the  Lee  resolution  nine  voted  yes.  No, 
said  Pennsylvania  and  South  Carolina.  Dela- 
ware could  not  vote:  she  had  three  delegates, 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  163 


one  said  yes,  one  no,  the  third  was  absent  on  a 
trip  through  the  lower  counties  of  his  state 
arguing  against  the  loyalists.  New  York  too 
did  not  vote. 

“We  are  in  favor  of  the  resolution,”  ex- 
plained her  delegates,  “and  believe  our  citizens 
are.  But  we’re  still  under  instructions  drawn 
up  a year  ago  which  strictly  forbid  us  to  take 
anv  action  against  reconciliation  with  Eng- 
land.” 

This  was  however  a preliminary  ballot.  At 
the  request  of  South  Carolina  the  final  vote 
was  postponed  till  the  next  day.  Then  the  re- 
sult was  quite  different:  after  a night  ride  of 
eighty  miles  the  missing  Delaware  man  arrived 
and  voted  yes;  Pennsylvania  changed  her  vote 
because  two  members  opposed  to  the  resolu- 
tion stayed  away;  South  Carolina  now  said 
yes,  that  the  records  might  show  Congress 
unanimously  in  favor  of  independence.  Again 
New  York  cast  no  vote,  but  a few  days  later 
the  state  convention  sent  its  approval  of  the 
Lee  resolution. 

The  Rubicon  was  crossed.  The  thirteen 
English  colonies  had  become  the  United  States 
of  America.  It  was  a bold  step  they  were  tak- 
ing. For  the  sake  of  safety  Congress  directed 


164  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


the  secretary  to  omit  from  the  journal  the 
names  of  Lee  and  Adams  as  mover  and  sec- 
onder of  the  resolution. 

Later  that  day  the  delegates  took  up  the 
committee’s  report  on  the  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence. The  debate  began.  It  lasted  for 
hours,  all  the  next  day  and  till  a late  hour  on 
Thursday,  the  fourth.  It  seemed  indeed  as 
though  discussion  would  go  on  endlessly.  Per- 
haps it  might  have  at  any  other  time  of  the 
year. 

The  weather  was  very  hot.  Close  by  the 
State  House  was  a stable  from  which  horse- 
flies swarmed,  thick  and  fierce.  They  lit  on 
the  legs  of  the  delegates  and  bit  through  their 
thin  silk  stockings. 

“Better  treason  than  to  be  so  uncomfort- 
able,” whispered  one  member  to  another. 
“Let’s  call  for  a vote  to  escape  these  flies.” 

Treason?  Yes,  every  man  there  knew  how 
important  was  the  step  they  were  taking. 
Once  adopt  this  report  of  the  committee,  once 
declare  their  independence  of  England,  and 
there  was  no  going  back.  To  the  mother  coun- 
try they  were  bound  by  many  ties — ties  of 
blood  and  speech,  of  daily  life  and  intercourse, 
of  thought  and  business.  They  had  the  same 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  165 


ideals,  the  same  hopes,  the  same  beliefs. 

Separate  themselves  from  England?  That 
meant  war  to  the  bitter  end.  The  king’s 
armies  were  still  in  the  land.  Not  always  were 
the  colonists  victorious.  George  III  had 
money  and  men  without  limit  and  credit  every- 
where. The  Americans  had  no  funds  and  no 
credit.  A straggling  chain  of  settlements 
clinging  to  the  seaboard,  they  were  defying  the 
greatest  power  in  the  world. 

If  they  won,  well  and  good.  If  they  lost, 
the  hangman’s  rope  for  traitors.  For  the  lead- 
ers in  civil  and  military  circles  this  was  a choice 
of  independence  or  ruin  with  no  middle 
ground. 

It  was  a dangerous  step  they  were  consider- 
ing and  was  so  regarded  in  London.  Lee’s 
son  was  there  at  school.  One  day  a visitor 
asked,  “Who  is  that?” 

“The  son  of  Richard  Henry  Lee  of 
America.” 

“Ah.”  The  man  turned  to  the  lad.  “We 
shall  yet  see  your  father’s  head  upon  Tower 

Hill.” 

“You  may  have  it  when  you  can  get  it,”  re- 
plied young  Lee. 

For  three  days  the  members  discussed  Jeff- 


166  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


erson’s  draft  for  their  declaration  of  independ- 
ence. Some  changes  they  made  for  greater 
accuracy  of  statement.  One  paragraph  they 
voted  to  omit  entirely — the  one  denouncing 
George  III  for  encouraging  the  slave  trade. 
True,  he  had  done  all  that  Jefferson  said.  But 
was  it  wise  to  denounce  the  king  when  this 
trade  was  carried  on  by  northern  shipowners 
for  southern  purchasers? 

A second  passage  Congress  omitted,  a state- 
ment that  the  hiring  of  foreign  troops  by  the 
English  must  “cause  us  to  endeavor  to  forget 
our  former  love  for  them.”  Better  not  say  a 
word  that  could  be  construed  as  a reflection  on 
the  English  people.  Our  quarrel  is  with 
George  III,  not  with  the  people  of  England. 

During  all  this  discussion  Thomas  Jefferson 
spoke  not  once.  Perhaps  this  was  because  he 
did  not  feel  able  to  hold  his  own  in  so  strenu- 
ous a contest  of  oratory.  Perhaps  he  thought 
it  his  duty  to  be  a passive  listener  to  the  com- 
ments of  impartial  judges.  But  he  was  far 
from  cheerful  while  sharp  criticisms  were  be- 
ing made. 

Benjamin  Franklin  sitting  by  him  saw  the 
young  Virginian  writhe  more  than  once  under 
some  bitter  speech.  By  way  of  comfort  he 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  167 


said,  “You  know,  Jefferson,  the  story  of  John 
Thompson  the  hatter?” 

The  author  of  the  declaration  shook  his  head. 

“He  was  one  of  my  apprentice  friends  who 
was  going  to  open  shop  for  himself.  He  or- 
dered a handsome  signboard  with  the  inscrip- 
tion, John  Thompson , Hatter,  makes  and  sells 
hats  for  ready  money,  with  the  figure  of  a hat. 
He  submitted  it  to  some  friends  for  their 
amendments.  The  first  thought  the  word 
Hatter  unnecessary.  It  was  struck  out.  The 
next  said  makes  might  as  well  be  omitted,  be- 
cause customers  didn’t  care  who  made  the  hats. 
It  was  painted  over.  A third  observed  for 
ready  money  was  useless,  as  it  wasn’t  the  cus- 
tom to  sell  on  credit.  r Sells V said  the  next 
friend,  ‘why,  nobody  expects  you  to  give  them 
away.’  Sells  was  left  out.  ‘Why  hats,  when 
there’s  one  painted  on  the  board?’  asked  an- 
other. So  the  inscription  was  reduced  to  John 
Thompson  with  the  picture  of  a hat.” 

Wisely  Jefferson  kept  out  of  the  debate. 
The  burden  of  upholding  the  committee  fell 
to  John  Adams.  So  gallantly  he  bore  it  that 
the  author  said  afterward,  “He  was  our  Colos- 
sus on  the  floor.” 

Congress  adopted  the  committee’s  declara- 


168  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


tion  of  independence.  John  Hancock  as  presi- 
dent and  Thomson  as  secretary  of  Congress 
signed  it,  Hancock  making  his  large,  familiar 
signature  that  reached  across  the  page  and  say- 
ing jestingly,  “There!  John  Bull  can  read 
that  without  spectacles.  Now  let  him  double 
the  price  on  my  head,  for  this  is  my  defiance.” 
Then  he  became  serious  and  impressed  on  his 
fellow-delegates  the  necessity  of  their  stand- 
ing together  in  this  matter.  “Gentlemen,  we 
must  all  hang  together.  We  must  be  unani- 
mous. There  must  be  no  pulling  different 
ways.” 

“Yes,”  said  Franklin  with  his  quaint,  dry 
humor,  “we  must  all  hang  together  or  most  as- 
suredly we  shall  all  hang  separately.” 

“When  it  comes  to  the  hanging,”  said  big, 
bluff  Harrison  from  Virginia  to  the  meager, 
little  Gerry  of  Massachusetts,  “I  shall  have  the 
advantage  of  you.  It’ll  all  be  over  with  me  be- 
fore you’ve  done  kicking  in  the  air.” 

The  hangman’s  rope  for  traitors  to  England 
was  never  far  from  their  minds.  The  business 
of  Congress  went  on.  It  was  voted  that  the 
committee  which  had  prepared  it  should  super- 
intend and  correct  the  printing  of  the  declara- 
tion; that  copies  should  be  sent  to  all  commit- 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  169 


tees  of  safety,  to  army  officers,  to  all  the  states ; 
that  it  should  be  proclaimed  in  each  state  and 
at  the  head  of  the  army.  Congress  ordered 
further  that  at  noon  on  the  eighth  of  July  at 
the  State  House  in  Philadelphia  the  sheriff 
should  read  it  in  public,  and  that  the  members 
of  the  committee  of  safety  should  meet  at  their 
chamber  and  proceed  in  a body  to  the  State 
House. 

But  of  all  these  details  the  good  people  of 
Philadelphia  knew  little  or  nothing.  Sessions 
of  Congress  were  in  secret  behind  closed  doors. 
Not  till  after  the  fourth  had  come  and  gone  did 
the  citizens  learn  that  Thursday  was  the  birth- 
day of  a new  nation.  On  the  sixth  a Phila- 
delphia newspaper  printed  the  declaration. 

Word  had  spread  abroad  of  what  was  to 
happen  on  the  eighth.  The  sailor  and  his 
friends  with  a great  crowd  of  people  watched 
the  committee  of  safety  take  their  places. 
Colonel  John  Nixon,  it  was  announced,  would 
read  the  declaration  of  independence.  The 
sheriff  had  invited  him  to  do  this,  perhaps  be- 
cause he  was  in  charge  of  the  city’s  defense, 
perhaps  because  he  had  a fine,  far-carrying 
voice. 

The  people  were  very  quiet.  Slowly,  dis- 


170  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


tinctly,  impressively  the  colonel  began: 
“When  in  the  course  of  human  events — ” 
Men  were  leaning  forward  to  hear  the  better. 
“We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self-evident,  that 
all  men  are  created  equal,  that  they  are  en- 
dowed— ” Then  followed  the  announcement 
of  political  rights  applying  to  all  mankind. 
“Let  facts  be  submitted  to  a candid  world.” 

Sentence  by  sentence  Nixon  read  the 
twenty-seven  grievances  of  the  colonies  which 
justified  the  Revolution.  The  crowd  in  the 
yard  was  hushed.  They  realized  the  tremen- 
dous importance  of  this  step.  Impressively, 
but  with  a voice  no  longer  steady  the  colonel 
came  to  the  closing  paragraph,  the  ringing, 
fearless  statement  that  the  colonies  were  free 
and  independent  states  and  that  for  the  sup- 
port of  this  declaration  the  delegates  pledged 
their  lives,  their  fortunes  and  their  sacred 
honor. 

Applause  followed  the  reading  and  a mur- 
mur of  heartfelt  satisfaction.  The  bell  in  the 
wooden  steeple  of  the  State  House  began  to 
ring,  the  bell  from  London  which  bore  those 
marvelous  words  from  the  Bible,  “Proclaim 
liberty  throughout  all  the  land,  unto  all  the  in- 
habitants thereof.” 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  171 

The  following  day  Washington  ordered  the 
declaration  read  to  every  brigade  of  the  army 
in  New  York  City.  Near  where  the  City  Hall 
now  stands  the  troops  paraded  and  listened 
while  their  officers  read  Jefferson’s  paper. 
The  soldiers  greeted  it  with  loud  cheers.  That 
night  the  gilded  lead  statue  of  George  III  in 
Bowling  Green  was  pulled  down  and  melted 
to  make  bullets  to  be  fired  against  the  king’s 
men. 

Meanwhile  swift  couriers  had  been  sent  out 
from  Philadelphia  carrying  copies  of  the  dec- 
laration from  the  press  of  John  Dunlop. 
From  town  to  town,  from  colony  to  colony 
they  spread  the  news.  Everywhere  from  New 
Hampshire  down  to  Georgia  the  people  re- 
joiced at  the  glad  tidings.  There  were  ban- 
quets and  bonfires,  illumination  of  houses,  fir- 
ing of  cannon,  flying  of  flags. 

Nothing  up  to  that  time  had  brought  the  col- 
onists so  close  together,  rallying  the  thirteen 
peoples  into  one  earnest  body  of  patriots. 
They  had  announced  to  the  world  their  inde- 
pendence. Together  they  would  fight  till  it 
was  won,  till  the  English  king  and  Parliament 
acknowledged  this  new  nation  across  the  At- 
lantic. 


172  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


A fine  copy  of  the  declaration  was  made,  en- 
grossed on  parchment.  On  the  second  of 
August  it  was  brought  into  Congress  for  the 
members  to  sign.  Again  Hancock  wrote  his 
name  in  the  same  large  letters.  Again  there 
was  joking  among  the  members  to  hide  their 
serious  thoughts.  Were  they  signing  warrants 
for  their  own  execution? 

“You’re  safe,”  some  one  said  when  Charles 
Carroll  signed,  “for  there  are  so  many  Carrolls 
in  Maryland  the  king  will  never  know  where 
to  find  you.” 

“I’ll  show  him,”  was  the  answer  and  Carroll 
wrote  “of  Carrollton”  after  his  name. 

Because  of  this  delay  of  nearly  a month  the 
parchment  copy  with  the  signatures  of  the 
delegates,  the  copy  preserved  in  Washington, 
does  not  represent  exactly  the  Congress  that 
met  on  the  fourth  of  July.  iVll  who  voted  for 
it  did  not  sign  it.  Some  signed  in  August 
who  were  not  members  a month  earlier. 

May  thirty-first,  1775,  when  a Carolina 
county  took  the  first  step  looking  toward  inde- 
pendence; June  seventh  when  Lee  introduced 
his  resolution;  the  second  of  July  when  it  was 
voted  on;  July  the  fourth  when  Jefferson’s 
declaration  of  independence  was  adopted;  the 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY  173 


second  of  August  when  it  was  formally  signed 
— which  is  the  birthday  of  the  nation? 

Adams  said  the  credit  was  Richard  Henry 
Lee’s  and  the  second  of  July  would  be  remem- 
bered always  and  celebrated  as  a day  of  de- 
liverance from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the 
other.  But  by  common  consent  the  people  of 
America  settled  on  the  fourth  of  July.  It  has 
been  known  ever  since  as  the  birthday  of  the 
republic,  founded  on  principles  of  liberty  and 
justice. 

With  speeches  and  ringing  of  bells,  with 
firing  of  cannon  and  flying  of  flags,  with  an  im- 
pressive public  reading  of  the  declaration  of 
independence  we  keep  this  holiday  in  all  the 
states  of  the  Union,  now  grown  from  thirteen 
to  forty-eight,  much  as  the  news  was  celebrated 
in  1776.  With  each  year  deeper  grows  our 
love  of  independence  and  our  gratitude  to 
those  members  of  the  Continental  Congress 
who  hung  together  lest  they  should  hang  separ- 
ately. 


AN  EMPEROR  S SAFE-CONDUCT 


THE  SIXTH  OF  JULY 

This  is  a holiday  in  Czechoslovakia.  Every- 
where flags  are  flying,  flags  of  white  and  red 
with  a blue  triangle.  There  are  flags  flying 
in  Prague,  at  the  university,  at  the  old  bridge, 
and  in  Bethlehem  Square  where  once  stood  the 
famous  chapel.  There  are  flags  out  today  in 
the  village  of  Husinec  near  the  Bavarian  front- 
ier. In  every  part  of  Czechoslovakia  people 
stop  their  work  to  pay  tribute  to  the  greatest 
Czech  in  history. 

Miles  away  in  Switzerland,  in  the  city  of 
Constance  visitors  are  making  a pilgrimage  to 
the  tablet-marked  house  at  66  Husenstrasse, 
and  to  the  Merchants’  Exchange  where  the 
great  council  met,  and  to  the  cathedral  to  seek 
out  the  stone  slab  in  the  nave,  twelve  paces 
from  the  entrance,  where  more  than  five  cen- 
turies ago,  on  this  very  sixth  of  July,  a man 
stood  to  receive  sentence.  They  drive  out  to 

the  Briihl,  a beautiful  meadow  half  a mile  be- 

174 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA  175 

yond  the  city  walls,  and  lay  their  flowers  on  an 
ivy-covered  boulder. 

Since  that  long  ago  sixth  of  July  in  1415 
Bohemians  have  kept  this  day.  But  notice! 
Many  of  the  flags  in  Prague  and  Husinec  are 
at  half  mast. 

This  is  not  an  ordinary  holiday.  It  cele- 
brates not  a great  victory,  a happy  birthday, 
or  some  event  that  helped  to  make  Bohemia 
free.  It  is  not  famous  for  a king  or  for  a gen- 
eral or  for  a statesman.  Yet  it  is  kept  by  all 
Bohemia — rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  Pro- 
testant and  Catholic,  peasant  and  noble. 

It  is  Jan  Hus  day. 

Not  a general  ? Not  a ruler  ? Not  a states- 
man ? No,  Hus  was  a preacher.  Who  would 
have  prophesied  a great  future  for  him  when  in 
1889  fatherless  and  poor  he  left  his  home  in 
the  village  of  Husinec  to  go  up  to  the  univer- 
sity of  Prague?  So  poor  he  was,  all  he  had  to 
offer  to  the  rector  for  his  admission  as  a stu- 
dent was  a goose,  with  a cake  his  mother  had 
baked.  But  on  the  journey,  says  the  old  leg- 
end, the  goose  flew  away.  So  the  rector  re- 
ceived only  the  cake.  So  poor  he  was  that  he 
sang  on  the  street  and  in  churches  to  earn  a 
few  pennies. 


176  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Yet  Jan  Hus  made  himself  a scholar  and  a 
leader.  He  was  in  turn  student,  bachelor 
of  arts,  then  master.  He  lectured,  served  as 
dean  of  one  of  the  faculties,  and  was  finally 
rector  of  the  university.  In  1400  he  was  or- 
dained a priest. 

Two  years  later  he  became  the  preacher  at 
the  Bethlehem  Chapel.  A large  church  that 
must  have  been,  for  it  seated  a thousand  per- 
sons. Two  rich  merchants  had  built  and  en- 
dowed it  with  the  condition  that  its  sermons 
must  be  in  the  Bohemian  tongue.  People  of 
all  classes  thronged  to  hear  Hus  preach.  His 
pulpit  was  like  a throne.  His  influence  was 
as  great,  sometimes  greater  than  king’s  or 
archbishop’s. 

Fearless  he  was  in  all  he  preached.  Over 
and  over  he  denounced  the  idle  rich  for  their 
misdeeds,  denounced  the  clergy  for  selling 
church  offices,  for  their  worldliness  and  greed. 
Like  the  challenge  of  a John  the  Baptist  his 
fearless  words  rang  out.  Men  who  felt  them- 
selves accused  resolved  to  silence  this  preacher 
who  praised  poverty  and  virtue  and  self-sacri- 
fice. 

Many  enemies  he  had — parish  priests  who 
were  envious  of  his  popularity;  the  foreign 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


1T7 


professors  in  the  university,  for  Hus  was  a de- 
voted patriot  and  the  champion  of  Bohemia; 
the  higher  clergy  and  prelates  of  the  church 
whose  lives  he  condemned;  and  the  monks 
whose  wealth  he  disapproved. 

But  he  had  also  many  friends — the  common 
people  who  flocked  to  the  chapel  in  Bethlehem 
Square  because  of  his  marvelous  eloquence  and 
his  piety;  many  of  the  nobles  at  court;  Queen 
Sophia  whose  confessor  he  was;  and  for  some 
time  the  king. 

One  day  a nobleman  complained  at  court 
that  Jan  Hus  was  attacking  the  idle  rich  for 
their  besetting  sins.  The  king  summoned  the 
archbishop  and  told  him  to  warn  this  fiery 
preacher  to  be  more  cautious  in  his  language. 

“No,  your  Majesty,”  replied  the  archbishop, 
“no.  Hus  is  bound  by  his  ordination  oath  to 
speak  the  truth  without  respect  of  persons.” 
The  king  must  perforce  agree.  Presently 
the  attacks  were  turned  from  nobles  to  clergy. 
Again  there  was  complaint  at  court. 

“Your  Majesty,”  the  archbishop  urged, 
“this  fiery  preacher  must  be  warned  to  be  more 
cautious  in  his  language.  His  words  are  too 
rash.  They  do  more  harm  than  good.” 

“No,”  replied  the  king,  “no.  Hus  is  bound 


178  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


by  his  oath  to  speak  the  truth  without  respect 
of  persons.” 

Only  a few  years  before  Wycliffe  had  been 
teaching  in  England  some  of  the  doctrines  J an 
Hus  taught  in  Bohemia.  Did  he  learn  of 
Wvcliffe’s  books  through  the  king’s  sister,  the 
bride  of  Richard  II  of  England?  or  through 
some  English  students,  graduates  of  Oxford, 
who  came  to  Prague  ? 

The  university  declared  forty-five  articles 
quoted  from  Wycliffe’s  writings  to  be  heresy. 
Hus  protested,  but  in  vain.  The  archbishop 
of  Prague  demanded  that  all  copies  of  these 
books  be  given  to  him.  In  the  courtyard  of 
his  palace  two  hundred  of  them  were  burned 
while  the  church  bells  tolled  and  the  priests 
chanted. 

Now  at  that  time  books  were  few  and  costly. 
Parchment  was  precious.  Scribes  penned  the 
letters  by  hand  with  long  hours  of  labor.  The 
king  ordered  the  full  value  of  the  burned  books 
to  be  paid  to  the  owners.  Humiliated  and  em- 
barrassed, the  archbishop  who  till  now  had 
been  a friend  of  Jan  Hus  became  angry  with 
him.  Publicly  he  was  excommunicated  amid 
the  indignant  shouts  of  the  people. 

In  the  Bethlehem  Chapel  this  fearless 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA  179 

preacher  continued  to  speak — to  thousands. 
His  listeners  overflowed  into  the  streets. 

In  1412  two  men  arrived  at  Prague.  Drum- 
mers went  before  them  to  attract  people’s  at- 
tention. In  the  market  place  they  established 
themselves.  To  all  the  passersby  they  called 
out  to  enlist  as  soldiers  in  a crusade  the  pope 
had  declared  against  the  king  of  Naples.  In 
return  they  would  receive  pardon  for  their 
sins.  Those  who  could  not  fight  must  give 
money  or  goods  and  they  too  would  receive  in- 
dulgences. 

Here  was  another  chance  for  Hus  to  de- 
nounce the  greed  of  the  church.  Like  Martin 
Luther  a century  later  he  posted  on  the  chapel 
doors  a thesis  denouncing  this  unholy  traffic. 
From  the  Bethlehem  pulpit  he  thundered 
against  it. 

He  brought  the  matter  before  the  university. 
There  was  a stormy  debate  in  the  great  hall. 
Lius  argued  against  the  sale  of  indulgences. 
He  drew  his  material  chiefly  from  the  writings 
of  Wycliffe.  The  practise  was  declared  un- 
christian. The  papal  bull  was  burned. 

In  reply  the  pope  excommunicated  Jan  Hus. 
He  was  declared  cut  off  from  “food, 
drink,  buying  and  selling,  from  conversation 


180  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

and  hospitality,  from  the  giving  of  fire  and 
water  and  all  other  acts  of  kindness.”  All 
true  members  of  the  church  w~ere  forbidden  to 
have  any  intercourse  with  him.  All  religious 
services  were  to  be  suspended  in  any  town  he 
entered. 

The  answer  of  Hus  was,  “I  appeal  from  the 
pope  to  Christ.” 

The  whole  city  of  Prague  was  laid  under  the 
interdict.  The  churches  were  closed.  Hop- 
ing to  end  the  conflict  the  king  asked  Hus  to 
retire  for  a time.  Down  to  his  birthplace  at 
Husinec  went  the  preacher,  “not,”  said  he,  “to 
deny  the  truth  for  which  I am  willing  to  die, 
but  because  the  church  forbids  the  preaching 
of  it.” 

Here  for  twenty  months  he  preached — in  the 
villages,  in  castles,  in  fields  and  forests,  in  pub- 
lic squares,  wherever  men  would  hear  him. 
Through  the  entire  land  his  doctrines  were 
spreading.  Everywhere  he  was  gaining 
friends  and  followers. 

It  was  during  these  months  of  voluntary  ex- 
ile that  Hus  did  the  most  of  his  literary  work. 
Fifteen  books  in  Bohemian  he  wrote  and  sev- 
eral in  Latin.  He  revised  the  Bohemian  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible,  made  in  the  previous  cen- 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


181 


tury.  He  wrote  many  hymns.  Jealous  for 
the  language  of  his  people  he  devised  a new 
system  of  spelling,  made  rules  for  the  many 
different  dialects,  and  purified  it  from  German 
words.  How  much  the  tongue  of  Bohemia 
owes  to  the  preacher  of  Bethlehem  Chapel! 

When  in  October  of  1414  he  returned  to 
Prague  Hus  was  as  popular  and  as  fearless  as 
before.  It  was  a time  of  alarms  and  unrest 
and  confusion.  How  could  there  be  peace  in 
the  university  or  in  the  city  or  in  the  kingdom  ? 

For  this  preacher,  said  his  enemies,  was  a 
dangerous  reformer,  a violent  agitator.  He 
taught  doctrines  that  had  been  condemned. 
And  he  taught  them  with  a flaming  eloquence 
that  carried  all  before  it. 

A great  council  was  to  be  held  in  Switzer- 
land to  make  some  reforms  in  the  Catholic 
church.  Sigismund,  the  emperor  of  Germany, 
summoned  Hus  to  appear  before  this  council 
of  Constance.  He  promised  such  ample  pro- 
tection for  the  journey  that  “he  should  come 
unmolested  to  Constance,  there  have  free 'right 
of  audience  and,  should  he  not  submit  to  the 
decision  of  the  Council,  he  should  return  un- 
harmed.” 

Three  Bohemian  nobles  were  appointed  to 


182  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


accompany  Hus  and  assist  him  on  the  road. 
On  the  eleventh  of  October  the  group  set 
forth  though  many  of  his  friends  begged  Hus 
not  to  go. 

“You  will  never  return  to  Prague,”  they 
prophesied  sadly. 

“I  must  go,”  was  his  answer.  “This  is  my 
opportunity  to  vindicate  my  position.  I must 
prove  that  I believe  and  teach  nothing  con- 
trary to  the  accepted  faith  of  the  church.” 

The  party  arrived  at  Constance  early  in 
November.  In  a little  house  near  the  Schnetz 
gate  Hus  took  up  his  lodging. 

Not  many  days  had  passed  when  he  had  a 
visit  from  three  men  who  requested  him  to 
come  to  the  pope’s  palace  for  a conference  with 
the  cardinals.  The  place  was  surrounded  by 
soldiers.  He  had  no  choice  but  to  go.  The 
good  woman  of  the  house  took  leave  of  him 
with  tears,  fearing  she  would  never  see  him 
again. 

“But  I have  the  emperor’s  safe-conduct!” 
said  Hus. 

He  lifted  his  hands  to  bless  her  and  rode 
away. 

The  cardinals  asked  a few  questions. 

“I  am  come,”  was  his  reply,  “to  make  my  de- 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


183 


fense  in  open  meeting,  after  the  arrival  of  the 
emperor  under  whose  safe-conduct  I am  here.” 

Of  this  his  accusers  took  no  heed.  They 
sent  him  to  prison,  not  to  the  ordinary  jail,  but 
to  the  dungeon  of  an  old  monastery  on  a little 
island  in  the  lake  of  Constance — the  same 
building  that  is  today  an  hotel.  Without 
books  or  papers,  without  a Bible  he  was  left 
there  alone.  Such  a miserable,  underground 
cell  it  was  that  he  became  very  ill. 

“It  would  never  do  to  let  him  die !”  exclaimed 
his  enemies. 

The  pope  sent  his  own  physician  to  treat  this 
Bohemian  preacher.  Hus  was  moved  to  a 
convent  where  he  was  fettered  day  and  night. 
Like  Paul  in  heavy  chains  he  wrote  letters  to 
his  friends. 

Not  until  Christmas  Eve  did  the  emperor 
Sigismund  arrive  at  Constance.  Immediately 
a group  of  Bohemian  lords  complained  to  him 
of  the  imprisonment  of  Hus.  He  promised  to 
use  his  influence  to  secure  the  preacher’s  free- 
dom. 

Now  Sigismund  had  given  this  man  his  safe- 
conduct.  He  knew  that  any  violent  measure 
would  result  in  trouble  in  Bohemia,  perhaps 
even  in  revolution.  But  his  sympathies  were 


184  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


all  on  the  side  of  the  church.  He  made  only  a 
feeble  protest.  The  council  ignored  it. 

Days  and  weeks  and  months  dragged  by. 
In  March  of  1415  the  pope  left  Constance  se- 
cretly. Hus  then  became  the  prisoner  of  the 
emperor  who  had  full  power  to  set  him  free. 
But  Sigismund  was  afraid  of  the  church.  He 
did  nothing. 

The  friends  of  Hus  were  finally  allowed  to 
visit  him  in  his  cell.  They  found  him  stretched 
on  a wretched  couch.  He  was  wasted  almost 
to  a skeleton.  He  had  been  scantily  fed  from 
the  pope’s  table.  Since  his  flight  the  prisoner 
had  been  starving.  With  streaming  eyes  the 
Bohemians  lifted  their  hands  to  heaven  and 
prayed  for  an  opportunity  to  avenge  this  cruel 
wrong  with  their  swords. 

Again  they  protested  to  Sigismund.  The 
following  day  Hus  was  placed  in  charge  of  the 
bishop  of  Constance  who  imprisoned  him  in 
the  tower  of  his  castle.  Here  too  he  was  kept 
in  chains.  During  the  day  he  could  move 
about  the  room.  At  night  his  arm  was  chained 
to  the  wall.  Over  two  months  he  spent  here 
seeing  no  one,  not  allowed  even  to  have  letters. 

After  the  pope’s  case  was  finished,  on  the 
fifth  of  June  the  council  took  up  the  charges 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


185 


against  J an  Hus.  He  asked  for  a lawyer  to 
advise  him. 

“A  heretic,”  they  answered  him,  “is  not  en- 
titled to  counsel.” 

“Well,  then,”  said  Hus,  “let  Jesus  be  my 
advocate.” 

From  that  moment  he  knew  that  he  was  al- 
ready condemned.  But  he  continued  the  fight 
not  for  life,  but  for  the  truth. 

At  his  first  sentence  of  defense  a furious 
storm  of  contradiction  and  denunciation  broke 
out.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  answer. 

“I  thought,”  he  commented,  “this  council 
would  be  conducted  in  a manner  more  seemly.” 

The  trial  broke  up  in  confusion  and  was  con- 
tinued on  the  seventh  and  eighth  of  the  month. 
The  churchmen  asked  a running  fire  of  ques- 
tions. They  hurled  at  Hus  all  the  acts  and  ut- 
terances of  his  life — what  he  had  taught,  what 
he  had  preached,  his  appeal  from  the  pope  to 
Christ,  his  quotations  from  Wycliffe,  para- 
graphs from  his  books  away  from  their  con- 
text. 

Many  of  the  charges  he  denied.  Some  he 
admitted  and  wished  to  argue  saying,  “I  will 
gladly  change  my  beliefs  if  any  one  can  show 
me  they  are  not  true.” 


186  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


But  this  the  council  would  not  permit. 

“Don’t  argue.  Say  yes  or  no,”  they  insisted. 
“You  must  retract  all  the  heretical  doctrines 
attributed  to  you  and  promise  not  to  preach 
them  again.” 

“I  refuse,”  said  Jan  Hus  boldly.  “I’d 
rather  die  than  retract  with  my  lips  opinions 
held  in  my  heart.” 

Back  to  prison  they  led  him.  As  he  passed 
out  through  the  crowd  one  man  came  up  and 
grasped  him  by  the  hand.  It  was  a daring 
thing  to  do  and  dangerous.  Deeply  it  touched 
the  lonely  prisoner’s  heart. 

The  weather  was  stifling.  People  fled  to 
the  mountains  to  escape  the  heat.  But  for  a 
month  Hus  remained  in  his  cramped  cell. 

Daily  his  enemies  argued  with  him  trying  to 
force  him  to  recant,  to  acknowledge  the  errors 
of  which  he  was  accused.  His  reply  was  al- 
ways the  same. 

“God  is  my  witness  that  I have  never  taught 
or  preached  those  things  which  have  falsely 
been  ascribed  to  me.  The  chief  aim  of  my 
preaching,  writing  and  acts  has  been  that  I 
might  save  men  from  sin.  Today  I am  willing 
and  glad  to  die  for  the  truth  which  I have 
taught,  written  and  preached.” 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


187 


The  council  refused  any  further  hearing. 
For  thirty  weary  days  of  heat  and  exhaustion 
this  nagging  went  on.  On  the  fifth  of  July 
came  a last  group  of  the  clergy  to  induce  him 
to  recant.  Steadfast  he  continued. 

“I  can  not  offend  God,”  he  declared,  “by 
saying  I held  to  heresies  I never  held.  Abjure 
what  I never  taught?  Be  false  to  my  con- 
science? Better  to  die  than  tell  an  untruth!” 

“If  the  council,”  argued  one  of  his  visitors, 
“should  say  you  have  but  one  eye,  Jan  Hus, 
you  are  bound  to  agree  that  it  is  so.” 

“Nay,  nay!  If  the  whole  world  tells  me  I 
have  but  one  eye  I can  not,  so  long  as  I have 
reason,  say  so  without  doing  violence  to  my 
conscience!” 

The  next  morning  they  brought  him  to  the 
cathedral.  All  the  notables  of  church  and 
state  were  present.  Mass  was  said.  Hus 
was  considered  unworthy  to  enter  and  forced 
to  wait  outside.  When  the  service  was  over  he 
was  led  to  a platform  in  the  nave — the  spot 
where  today  you  see  a white  stone  in  the  pave- 
ment. 

An  official  read  the  charges  against  him. 

“Not  guilty!”  said  Jan  Hus.  He  turned 
directly  toward  Sigismund.  “I  came  here 


188  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


freely  to  this  council  relying  on  the  public 
faith  of  the  emperor  who  is  here  present,  assur- 
ing me  that  I should  be  safe  from  all  violence.” 

Under  his  steady  gaze  the  emperor’s  face 
crimsoned. 

A century  later  at  Worms  men  urged 
Charles  V to  seize  Martin  Luther. 

“No,”  was  the  reply,  “he  has  a safe-conduct. 
I should  not  like  to  blush  like  Sigismund.” 

“For  a last  time  we  call  upon  you  to  recant,” 
said  the  clerk  of  the  council. 

Hus  refused. 

“Then  we  declare  you  a heretic.” 

They  read  the  condemnation  with  the 
charges.  Over  and  over  the  prisoner  broke  in 
denying  the  truth  of  the  accusations.  Once 
when  they  read  an  entirely  new  charge  he 
shrieked  aloud  and  called  out,  “Give  me  the 
name  of  this  accuser.” 

“Be  silent.” 

Hus  knelt  down  on  the  platform  and  prayed. 

“Lord  Jesus,  pardon  all  my  enemies  for  thy 
great  mercy.  Thou  knowest  that  they  have 
falsely  accused  me.  Pardon  them  for  thy 
mercy’s  sake.” 

The  clergy  and  the  people  gathered  around 
received  these  words  with  shouts  of  laughter 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


180 


They  clothed  him  in  white  as  a priest  cele- 
brating mass.  Then  they  stripped  from  him 
the  insignia  of  his  ministry.  They  cut  his  hair 
to  hide  the  tonsure.  They  snatched  the  chalice 
from  his  hands.  They  degraded  him  from  his 
office  and  expelled  him  from  the  church. 

Sigismund  turned  to  the  Count  Palatine,  the 
sword-bearer  of  the  empire. 

“Go,  take  him!” 

For  by  the  barbarous  laws  of  that  time  the 
punishment  for  a heretic  was  death  by  burning. 
It  was  meted  out  not  by  the  church,  but  by  the 
civil  authorities. 

On  the  prisoner’s  head  they  put  a paper  cap, 
with  a writing  on  it  that  he  was  a heretic,  and  a 
picture  of  three  grinning  devils  clawing  at  his 
soul. 

“The  crown  that  Jesus  wore  was  heavier  and 
more  painful  than  this,”  was  his  only  comment. 

The  long  procession  slowly  made  its  way 
from  the  cathedral  to  the  city  walls.  There 
were  eight  hundred  men-at-arms  guarding  a 
preacher  with  his  hands  bound.  There  were 
priests  and  prelates  of  the  church.  There 
were  friends  of  the  condemned  from  Prague. 
There  were  throngs  of  people.  There  were 
curious  ones  come  to  see  a brave  man  die. 


190  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Out  at  the  Schnetz  gate  they  went,  and  half' 
a mile  beyond  the  walls  of  Constance  to  the 
meadow  called  the  Briihl.  They  passed  a 
place  where  the  writings  of  Hus  were  being 
burned.  The  author  smiled. 

The  crowd  scattered  into  a wide  circle 
around  the  stake.  Great  piles  of  fagots  were 
ready  near  it.  A chain  about  his  neck,  Jan 
Hus  was  bound  to  the  stake.  Straw  and 
wood  were  heaped  about  him  breast  high.  By 
chance  his  face  was  toward  the  east. 

“Turn  him  the  other  way,  the  heretic!” 
cried  the  mob. 

The  executioner  turned  him  to  the  west,  the 
region  of  sunset  and  night. 

“We  commit  thy  soul  to  the  devil!”  thun- 
dered his  enemies  in  chorus. 

“And  I,”  Jan  Hus  answered,  “commit  it  to 
the  most  gracious  Lord  Jesus.” 

The  fagots  were  lighted.  The  flames  shot 
upward.  Hus  prayed  aloud.  Above  the 
crackling  of  the  fire  the  people  could  hear  his 
voice,  fearless  as  of  old.  The  words  were  the 
opening  sentence  of  the  apostles’  creed. 

In  the  eyes  of  Hus  was  a rare  light  of  joy. 
A strong  gust  of  wind  blew  the  smoke  into  his 
face. 


CZECHOSLOVAKIA 


191 


“A  breeze  in  this  quiet  weather?”  cried 
some  of  the  mob.  “A  miracle!  A miracle!” 

The  words  of  the  prisoner  ceased.  His  lips 
still  moved  in  prayer.  The  flames  suffocated 
him. 

“We  know  not  his  fault,”  said  the  spectators 
sympathetically,  “but  he  prays  like  a true 
man  of  God.” 

The  ashes  from  his  body  and  from  the 
fagots,  even  the  pieces  of  the  stake  itself  were 
thrown  into  the  river  Rhine,  lest  his  friends 
carry  them  back  to  Prague  as  precious  relics. 
His  memory  and  example  the  fires  of  Con- 
stance could  not  burn. 

All  Bohemia  mourned  when  the  tidings 
came  from  Switzerland.  It  was  the  be- 
ginning, not  the  end  of  discord  in  the  land. 
The  people  rose  to  avenge  the  death  of  their 
hero.  Promptly  war  broke  out,  the  devas- 
tating Hussite  wars  that  lasted  for  fifty  years. 

Hus  gave  his  life  for  the  truth,  saying  it  was 
better  to  die  well  than  to  live  badly.  He  was 
the  first  man  in  history  to  stand  for  truth 
against  the  world,  for  freedom  to  think,  to 
speak,  to  worship. 

Since  that  long  ago  1415  Bohemia  has  kept 
his  day.  She  holds  dearest  the  story  of  this 


192  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


brave  Czech.  Protestant  and  Catholic  alike 
recognize  his  patriotism,  his  greatness  of  soul. 
And  on  the  five  hundredth  anniversary  of  his 
death  they  united  to  honor  their  hero  and 
martyr,  the  saint  of  his  age,  with  a statue  in 
Prague. 


TWENTY  MINUTES  OF  SIX 


THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

Today  the  tricolor  is  flying  in  France.  In 
every  little  village,  at  every  Hotel  de  Yille  flut- 
ters the  red,  white  and  blue.  Every  town  is 
having  fireworks  and  dancing.  You  can  feel 
the  holiday  spirit  in  the  air. 

Especially  is  this  true  in  the  city  of  Paris. 
Wherever  you  look  the  tricolor  is  fluttering 
against  the  sky.  All  the  shops  are  closed  and 
tightly  shuttered,  but  over  their  doors  wave  the 
flags  of  France. 

Along  the  boulevards  men  and  women  and 
children  walk  gaily.  The  little  boats  that  ply 
up  and  down  the  Seine  have  more  passengers 
than  they  can  take.  The  railroad  stations  are 
crowded.  All  Paris  is  leaving  town  to  spend 
the  day  in  the  country.  A still  larger  throng 
waits  on  the  quay  by  the  Louvre  where  the 
motor-bus  starts  for  the  twelve-mile  drive  to 
Versailles. 

Here  comes  the  mother  with  little  Yvonne, 

193 


194  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 

the  father  carrying  the  big  basket  of  lunch, 
Lucien  and  J acques  minus  their  black  sa- 
teen aprons,  and  twelve-year-old  Renee.  In 
France  the  family  always  celebrates  a holiday 
together.  Up  they  clamber  to  the  top  of  the 
bus. 

“How  warm  the  sun  is!”  calls  out  Jacques. 
“Think  how  lovely  it  will  be  in  the  park  at 
Versailles!  You’re  sure,  Mother,  the  foun- 
tains will  play  today?  Will  they  be  as  wonder- 
ful as  Renee  says — great  jets  of  water  seventy- 
five  feet  high,  with  the  sunshine  making  them 
sparkle  till  it  hurts  your  eyes,  and  the  colored 
lights  turned  on  at  night,  and  the  splendid 
fireworks?” 

Happy  they  are,  starting  off  for  this  holi- 
day. F or  where  in  all  the  world  can  you  spend 
such  a day  as  at  Versailles?  Where  else  can 
you  see  so  celebrated  a park  and  the  great 
palace  of  Louis  XIV,  nearly  half  a mile  long, 
with  one  series  of  splendid  rooms  opening  out 
after  another,  with  the  famous  hall  of  mirrors? 
The  spacious  courts,  the  gardens  and  lawns 
that  were  once  upon  a time  a swamp,  the  fine 
avenues  of  stately  trees,  the  gleaming,  cross- 
shaped pond  and  the  glorious  fountains  whose 
water  came  from  a river  turned  out  of  its 


FRANCE 


195 


course,  full  ninety  miles  away,  all  this  beauty 
and  luxury  that  cost  the  ancestors  of  Lucien 
and  Renee  so  much  in  heavy  taxes — today  all 
this  belongs  to  them,  to  the  people  of  France. 

Yes,  this  is  a holiday  at  Versailles.  Over 
the  three  great  entrance  gates  that  now  stand 
wide  open  the  tricolor  floats  in  the  soft  breeze. 
In  the  court  of  honor  flags  are  flying,  over  the 
royal  stables  and  the  barracks,  over  the  chapel 
and  theater. 

It  must  have  been  just  such  a beautiful, 
warm  fourteenth  of  July  in  1789.  Then  too 
flags  were  flying  at  Versailles,  not  these  ban- 
ners of  red,  white  and  blue,  but  the  white  flag 
of  the  Bourbon  kings  who  had  reigned  in 
France  for  two  hundred  years.  Soldiers  of  the 
royal  Guards  stood  on  duty  at  the  palace  gates. 
In  the  garden  servants  were  making  ready  a 
fete  for  the  beautiful  young  queen,  Marie  An- 
toinette— “Madame  Deficit”  many  of  the 
French  called  her,  blaming  her  and  her  ex- 
travagant ways  for  all  their  misery  and  dis- 
tress. 

But  twelve  miles  away  in  Paris  there  was  no 
holiday  feeling  on  that  Tuesday.  Over  the 
city  hung  excitement  and  confusion' — an  ex- 


196  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


citement  and  confusion  that  had  begun  two 
days  before  and  with  each  hour  grew  greater 
and  wilder.  Since  Sunday  men  had  not  slept. 
All  Paris  was  in  the  streets.  In  groups  peo- 
ple marched  and  paraded  and  talked,  talked, 
talked. 

Now  they  stopped  to  listen  to  some  street 
orator.  Now  they  gathered  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Palais  Royal,  the  center  for  news  and 
gossip.  Standing  on  a table  in  front  of  the 
Cafe  de  Foy  a young  man  began  to  harangue. 

The  failure  of  the  harvest  and  the  cost  of  a 
loaf  of  bread — the  twenty-five  thousand  sol- 
diers that  the  king  has  thrown  around  the  city 
— liberty  and  the  rights  of  man — monstrous 
taxes  paid  only  by  the  poor — the  privileges  of 
the  nobles  who  enjoy  themselves  while  the  peo- 
ple starve — all  this  he  touched  on  while  his  lis- 
teners came  and  went. 

“And  now,”  cried  the  speaker,  “here  is  this 
last  news  from  Versailles.  Louis  NVI  has 
dismissed  the  ministers  wrho  were  friendly  to 
the  people.  He’s  going  to  break  up  the  Na- 
tional Assembly  and  rule  himself,  with  the 
help  of  the  nobles.  If  there’s  any  resistance, 
he’ll  turn  the  guns  of  the  Bastille  upon  the 
city!” 


FRANCE  197 

“The  guns  of  the  Bastille  1”  echoed  the 
crowd. 

“The  hour  has  come.  The  hour  has  come 
for  France!  To  arms!” 

“To  arms!”  Men  took  up  the  cry  till  it 
echoed  through  the  narrow  streets.  “To 
arms!”  Again  and  again  it  sounded  through 
the  city. 

“Where  are  arms  to  be  had?”  some  one  asked. 

“At  the  Hotel  de  Ville.” 

The  officials  there  tried  to  shut  out  the  mob. 
But  in  through  the  iron  gates  they  rushed  and 
took  what  muskets  they  could  find — three  hun- 
dred and  sixty  in  all.  In  an  arsenal  they  dis- 
covered a few  more.  Twenty-eight  thousand 
they  found  at  the  Hotel  des  Invalides.  Even 
these  were  not  enough,  for  every  citizen  was 
now  a soldier. 

Blacksmiths  worked  without  ceasing.  In  a 
day  and  night  they  turned  out  fifty  thousand 
pikes,  for  pikes  were  quicker  to  make  than 
muskets. 

Through  all  the  hubbub  of  the  restless 
crowds  that  scoured  the  streets,  above  the 
tramping  of  feet,  above  the  beating  of  drums 
and  the  ringing  of  alarm  bells  in  every  steeple 
sounded  that  threatening  cry:  “To  arms! 


198  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Give  us  arms !”  And  then  on  Tuesday  morn- 
ing came  a second  cry:  “To  the  Bastille!” 

Already  two  groups  of  citizens  had  gone  to 
that  old  fortress  demanding  arms  from  the 
governor  DeLaunay.  Through  the  porthole 
he  refused. 

Muskets  and  pikes  and  wooden  clubs  were 
distributed.  The  streets  seethed  and  boiled 
with  grim-faced  men.  No  longer  was  heard 
the  cry  for  arms.  They  said  only,  “To  the 
Bastille!”  Toward  that  old  building  in  the 
east  of  Paris  they  made  their  way.  It  was  not 
an  orderly  march  of  soldiers  on  parade,  wheel- 
ing with  brisk  step,  marking  time.  Men 
crowded  along  shouting  and  yelling.  They 
were  a living  tide  that  during  many  years  had 
ebbed,  had  slowly  turned,  and  now  with  a new 
force  swept  toward  the  eight  grim  towers  of 
the  Bastille. 

Here  was  an  outlet  for  their  fury.  How 
they  hated  the  sight  of  the  fortress!  How 
they  hated  its  very  name!  For  more  than  four 
hundred  years  it  had  stood  there  grim  and  for- 
bidding, threatening  the  city.  Long,  long  be- 
fore a king  of  France  had  built  it  as  part  of 
the  defenses  of  Paris.  But  for  a century  and 
more  it  had  been  prison  rather  than  fortress — 


FRANCE 


199 


a royal  prison  where  the  king  or  his  minister 
or  one  of  his  favorites  could  send  a man — inno- 
cent or  guilty  no  one  stopped  to  ask — send  him 
there  without  trial  and  keep  him  there  for  years 
and  years  till  he  was  quite  forgotten.  The 
Bastille  was  a symbol  of  the  absolute  power  of 
the  sovereign.  To  the  people  it  stood  for  self- 
ishness and  injustice.  It  stood  for  oppression 
and  wrongs  unredressed  for  centuries. 

And  now  on  the  fourteenth  of  July,  1789, 
the  mob  swelling  ever  wilder,  shouting  ever 
louder  massed  in  front  of  the  fortress.  What 
could  pikes  and  muskets  do  against  walls  nine 
feet  thick?  against  cannon  pointing  down  from 
the  battlements? 

What  would  DeLaunay  do,  that  loyal  old 
soldier  whose  orders  were  to  hold  his  post? 
There  were  fifteen  pieces  of  artillery  on  the 
tower  platforms.  His  force  numbered  eighty- 
two  Frenchmen  and  thirty-six  redcoated 
Swiss.  He  had  no  store  of  food  or  ammuni- 
tion. Should  he  surrender?  The  Bastille 
had  resisted  many  an  attack  in  the  past. 
Should  he  fire  on  the  mob  ? They  were  badly 
armed  and  leaderless. 

It  was  one  o’clock. 

One  hundred  and  eighteen  against  those 


200  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


thousands  boiling  and  whirling  in  a mad  flood. 
With  smoldering  eyes  and  clenched  hands, 
with  a fury  in  their  brains  they  besieged  the 
old  fortress.  Every  suggestion  made  by  some 
fellow  in  the  crowd  they  caught  up  eagerly. 

“Send  for  the  firemen  to  wet  the  touchholes 
of  their  cannon!” 

This  they  tried.  But  the  pumps  could  not 
reach  so  high.  They  made  only  clouds  of 
spray. 

“Burn  some  straw  and  smoke  them  out!” 

Three  cartloads  of  straw  were  brought  from 
somewhere,  hauled  into  place,  and  the  mass  set 
on  fire.  White,  white  smoke  went  up  almost 
choking  the  besiegers. 

“Drag  up  the  cannon  from  the  parade- 
ground.” 

“What — the  little  silver-mounted  cannon 
sent  to  Louis  XIV  by  the  king  of  Siam?  Try 
them.  But  what  can  they  do  against  those 
massive  bulwarks?” 

All  this  time  the  firing  of  muskets  never 
stopped.  From  behind  battlements,  from 
portholes  the  besieged  fired  back.  The  eighty- 
three  wounded  were  carried  into  nearby  houses. 

“Do  not  yield,”  they  cried,  “till  the  strong- 
hold falls!” 


FRANCE 


201 


Climbing  up  on  bayonets  stuck  into  joints 
in  the  wall,  two  men  struck  with  their  axes  at 
the  heavy  chains  of  the  outer  drawbridge. 
The  iron  links  yielded,  broke.  The  huge  draw- 
bridge thundered  down. 

Far  below  the  prisoners  in  the  Bastille  heard 
a muffled  din. 

“What’s  happening  out  there?”  they  asked. 

Vaguely  the  guards  made  answer. 

DeLaunay  was  waiting  for  reinforcements. 
A troop  of  hussars  crept  cautiously  along  the 
river,  coming  up  as  close  as  the  bridge. 

“Alight  and  give  up  your  arms!”  called  out 
one  of  the  mob. 

While  the  people  cheered  the  soldiers  of  the 
king  were  disarmed  and  escorted  back. 

For  four  hours  the  firing  kept  up.  Shots 
blazed  and  rattled,  but  fell  harmless  against 
the  solid  stone  walls.  DeLaunay  would  not 
surrender  save  at  the  king’s  order.  He  de- 
cided to  fire  the  powder  magazine  and  blow  up 
the  Bastille.  But  a soldier  seized  his  arm  and 
dashed  to  the  ground  the  lighted  torch. 

By  the  inner  drawbridge  a porthole  was 
opened.  The  Swiss  guards  hung  out  a white 
flag  made  of  napkins.  They  beat  a drum  to 
ask  a parley,  but  no  one  could  hear. 


202  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


“Safety  for  all  if  we  surrender,”  they  wrote 
on  a paper  and  passed  it  out  on  the  end  of  a 
bayonet. 

“Yes — on  the  word  of  an  officer,”  said  the 
half-pay  captain  who  led  one  portion  of  the 
mob. 

The  inner  drawbridge  was  lowered.  In 
rushed  the  besiegers.  The  Bastille  was  theirs ! 

It  was  twenty  minutes  of  six. 

Against  the  wall  the  hundred  and  eighteen 
piled  their  arms.  Into  the  fortress  plunged 
the  mob.  Through  court  and  corridor  they 
rushed,  over  bridges,  down  steep  stairs,  into 
dungeons  and  narrow  cells. 

“Take  the  governor  and  the  other  officers 
to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,”  said  the  half-pay  cap- 
tain. 

But  the  mob  forgot  the  promise  of  safety, 
hustled  them  along  and  killed  them  in  the 
street.  Their  heads  were  placed  on  pikes  and 
carried  along  in  triumph.  Men  and  women 
looked  on  shouting,  “Liberty  forever!” 

It  was  twenty  minutes  of  six,  the  hour  of  the 
birth  of  liberty  in  France.  The  late  after- 
noon sun  shone  on  the  garden  fete  at  Ver- 
sailles where  officers  and  ladies  of  the 
court  were  dancing  and  feasting.  It  shone 


FRANCE  203 

on  the  barracks  full  of  soldiers  drinking  and 
singing. 

Its  slant  rays  lighted  the  babel  and  bedlam 
swarming  about  the  old  fortress.  They  shone 
on  a procession  that  wound  through  the  streets 
of  Paris.  Shoulder  high  the  victorious  mob 
carried  the  seven  prisoners  found  in  the  Bas- 
tille. The  light  touched  the  scanty  white  hair 
of  one  of  these  poor  men  who  for  thirty  years 
had  lived  in  a cell  and  could  not  tell  whence  he 
came  nor  why  he  was  a prisoner. 

The  sun  shone  too  on  rusty  iron  keys  held 
up  for  the  people  to  see.  They  were  the  sym- 
bol of  the  end  of  tyranny  in  France.  It  shone 
on  a cage  of  iron,  on  heavy  padlock  chains  torn 
from  heavy  doors,  on  monstrous  blocks  of  stone 
and  trap  dungeons — things  that  for  long  years 
had  not  seen  the  light  of  day. 

As  twilight  came  the  destruction  of  the  Bas- 
tille went  on  rapidly.  Great  stones  were 
wrenched  from  their  foundations.  Bit  by  bit 
the  eight  massive  towers  went  down.  The 
stern  battlements  that  made  a dark  shadow 
over  the  city  fell  as  pike  and  musket  ham- 
mered at  them. 

“The  building  itself  must  be  destroyed!” 
shouted  the  people.  “Never  again  a king  with 


204  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

such  absolute  power!  Never  again  such  des- 
potism in  fair  France!” 

A small  affair  to  destroy  a fortress? 

The  fall  of  the  Bastille  was  like  a writing  on 
the  wall.  It  marked  the  end  of  the  old  mon- 
archy. It  marked  the  beginning  of  the  new 
France. 

“An  evil  omen,”  said  king  and  queen  and 
nobles. 

“A  good  omen,”  said  the  people  of  France. 

Through  the  great  park  at  Versailles  walk 
Renee  and  Lucien  and  Jacques.  From  the 
terrace  they  watch  the  fountains  play.  Awe- 
struck they  gaze  about  them  in  the  hall  of  mir- 
rors. They  look  at  the  splendid  paintings  that 
tell,  in  room  after  room,  the  history  of  France. 
They  stroll  over  to  the  little  farm  where  Marie 
Antoinette  played  with  her  blue-ribboned 
sheep  and  made  butter  in  the  dairy-house  while 
the  king  carried  sacks  of  wheat  to  the  mill. 
Here  the  court  amused  itself  while  the  people 
were  starving. 

Under  the  trees  the  children  listen  to  the 
story  of  that  fourteenth  of  July,  a tale 
that  is  old  to  every  French  boy  and  girl,  but 
one  they  never  tire  of  hearing. 


FRANCE  205 

“Why  did  they  call  it  the  Bastille?”  asks 
Renee.  “What  does  it  mean?” 

“It  means  ‘building’  ” replies  her  father. 
“The  people  called  it  ‘the  building’  as  if  there 
were  no  other.  But  it  was  not  with  love  they 
christened  the  Bastille.” 

“When  we  go  home,”  says  Jacques,  “will 
you  take  us  over  to  the  Place  de  la  Bastille? 
I’d  like  to  see  it  today.” 

So  in  the  evening  this  French  family  walks 
into  the  great  square  where  once  stood  the 
grim,  old  fortress. 

“Is  the  great,  high  column  in  the  center  a 
monument  for  the  fourteenth  of  July?”  the 
children  ask,  craning  their  necks  to  see  the  fig- 
ure of  Liberty  on  the  top. 

“Yes,  but  years  later  than  the  fall  of  the  Bas- 
tille. It’s  in  honor  of  the  heroes  of  the  revo- 
lution of  1830.  You  see,  there’s  nothing  left 
of  the  old  building — no  ruins,  no  great  blocks 
of  stone,  no  iron  cage.  But  look  here!” 

In  the  pavement  near  the  Rue  St.  Antoine 
the  children  find  a line  of  white  stones.  Trac- r 
ing  it  back  yard  by  yard  they  make  out  the  site 
of  the  Bastille.  Here  it  ran  close  to  the  river. 
There  it  curved  out  for  one  of  the  frowning 
towers.  They  pictured  the  Place  as  it  looked 


206  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


on  the  fourteenth  of  July  with  loyal  old  De- 
Launay  refusing  to  surrender  and  the  roaring 
sea  of  men  whirling  and  seething,  shouting  and 
firing. 

“For  years  and  years,”  says  their  father, 
“the  people  of  France  had  been  oppressed  and 
voiceless.  In  1789  they  found  their  voice. 
And  it  was  the  voice  of  the  people  that  took 
the  Bastille  as  once  long  before,  in  a land  far 
away  the  walls  of  Jericho  fell  at  a sound.” 


THE  FATHER  OF  FIVE 
COUNTRIES 


THE  TWENTY-FOURTH  OF  JULY 

“Only  give  us  a leader!  We  too  have  pa- 
triots who  dare  to  dream  of  liberty!” 

“It’s  true,  all  you’ve  said  of  this  new  interest 
in  liberty  that’s  sweeping  over  the  world.  The 
United  States  began  it  in  ’75.  France  be- 
headed her  king.  Greece  is  trying  to  free 
herself  from  Turkey.  It’s  reached  even  as  far 
as  here  in  Venezuela.  Give  us  a leader!  And 
Spain — ” 

“Yes,”  interrupted  a third,  “all  of  this 
great  continent,  except  Brazil,  belongs  to 
Spain.  And  how  does  she  treat  us?  She’ll 
learn  nothing  from  England’s  bitter  lesson  in 
North  America.  Only  look  at  the  amount  of 
taxes  we  pay — taxes  we  have  no  share  in  vot- 
ing.” 

“ ‘Taxation  without  representation,’  ” 
quoted  one  of  his  listeners,  “that’s  tyranny!” 

“And  look  at  all  the  restrictions  Spain 
207 


208  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


hedges  about  us — we  can’t  grow  almond  trees 
or  grapes,  we  can’t  make  oil  or  wine,  we  can’t 
weave  cotton  cloth,  we  can’t  trade  with  any- 
body, anywhere — save  with  certain  Spanish 
cities — we  can’t  hold  an  office.  For  what  do 
we  exist?  Tell  me  that — for  what  do  we 
exist?” 

“To  glorify  the  mother  country,”  answered 
several  voices. 

“Yes,  to  glorify  Spain,”  he  repeated  bit- 
terly. “But  give  us  a leader.  Venezuela  is 
seeking  her  George  Washington.  Who  is  her 
man-of-the-hour  ?” 

The  group  of  patriots  was  silent. 

They  had  no  leader. 

“What  would  you  think,”  one  man  spoke  up 
timidly,  “of  interesting  Bolivar?” 

“What — young  Simon  Bolivar?” 

“Who’s  he?” 

“Where  does  he  live?” 

“I  knew  his  father — years  ago — a nobleman 
at  our  capital.  The  boy’s  an  orphan  and  heir 
to  vast  estates  near  Caracas.  But — lead  a 
movement  for  our  country’s  liberty?  He’s 
not  interested  in  liberty.  He  used  to  like 
athletics  and  riding.  Now  he  cares  only  for 
pleasure  and  travel.  Abroad  still,  I believe.” 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


209 


“Yes,  in  Madrid,  my  agent  there  writes  me. 
He’s  a great  favorite  at  court.  Plays  tennis 
with  the  crown  prince — and  wins!  There’s 
something  about  it  in  the  last  letter.  Wait, 
here  it  is.” 

He  opened  the  pages  and  read  aloud : 

“Perhaps  you’ll  be  interested,  Senor,  in  a bit  of 
gossip  about  one  of  your  fellow-citizens — the  rich, 
young  Bolivar  who  plays  tennis  here  with  the  crown 
prince.  Report  has  it  that  he  said,  ‘Look  out,  your 
Highness,  I give  you  fair  warning.  I’ve  won  from 
you  at  tennis.  Some  time  I shall  take  your  bright- 
est jewel.’  Is  anything  afoot  in  Venezuela?” 

“Nothing’s  afoot  till  we  find  a leader.” 

Their  talk  drifted  from  Bolivar  to  the  latest 
news  from  Madrid  and  Europe.  No  one  in 
that  group  guessed  that  Venezuela’s  man-of- 
the-hour  would  prove  to  be  the  rich  young 
noble,  that  his  threat  to  the  prince  would  come 
true  and  more,  that  he  would  take  not  one 
jewel  only,  but  two,  three,  four,  five.  No  one 
knew  that  a visit  to  the  gay  city  of  Paris  had 
chanced  to  show  him  the  last  striking  scenes  of 
the  Revolution. 

Already  he  was  dreaming  of  liberty  for 
Venezuela,  for  the  other  countries  of  the  great 


210  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


southern  continent.  Standing  on  one  of  the 
seven  hills  of  Rome  he  had  vowed  to  devote 
himself  to  that  cause. 

On  his  way  home  he  traveled  through  the 
United  States,  anxious  to  see  for  himself  how  a 
government  of  the  people  was  succeeding. 
This  was  the  last  step  in  fixing  his  purpose. 
ITe  would  free  South  America  from  the 
tyrant  Spain  and  establish  her  independence, 

By  this  decision  Bolivar  had  everything  to 
lose  and  nothing  to  gain.  He  might  have  been 
the  richest,  the  most  powerful  of  his  class. 
He  might  have  lived  in  luxury  all  his  years. 
He  might  have  had  the  favor  of  the  court  and 
of  the  king.  All  this  he  gave  up  to  be  true  to 
the  spirit  of  liberty  in  his  soul. 

In  Venezuela  he  joined  this  group  of  pa- 
triots who  were  working  toward  independence. 
He  was  all  for  taking  action  at  once.  What 
matter  how  things  went  in  Spain,  in  Europe? 
Some  of  his  friends  urged  delay. 

“You  say  great  projects  should  be  patiently 
weighed.  Yes — but  aren’t  three  hundred 
years  of  waiting  enough?”  And  to  those  who 
argued  that  the  mother  country’s  plans  must 
be  considered  he  answered,  “What  shall  we 
care  if  Spain  chooses  to  keep  us  as  her  slave 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


211 


or  sell  us  to  Napoleon,  since  we  have  decided 
to  be  free?  Let  us  fix  without  fear  the 
foundations  of  our  liberty.” 

In  July  of  1811  Venezuela  proclaimed  her 
independence  from  Spain.  The  following 
year  war  began  in  earnest.  But  the  first 
attempts  of  the  patriot  group  failed.  Their 
republic  was  short  lived.  Bolivar  escaped  to 
the  west  and  offered  his  services  to  the  presi- 
dent of  New  Granada  (the  country  that  is  now 
Colombia)  where  the  revolutionists  were  for 
the  time  in  control.  With  only  two  hundred 
men  against  an  enemy  ten  times  as  strong  he 
fought  twelve  battles  in  fifteen  days  and 
gained  a large  province  for  the  patriot  party. 

He  asked  permission  to  invade  his  native 
state  and  argued  that  only  through  her  inde- 
pendence could  the  freedom  of  South  ilmerica 
be  won.  Indeed  for  their  own  safety  the  New 
Granadians  must  reconquer  Venezuela  or  the 
Spanish  would  use  it  as  a base  of  supplies 
against  them.  The  permission  was  given  and 
with  four  hundred  followers  Bolivar  crossed 
the  frontier. 

A rash  movement?  He  did  not  stop  to 
count  the  odds  against  him.  He  called  on  all 
good  citizens  to  aid.  As  he  moved  eastward 


212  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


the  people  rose  in  arms.  Soon  he  had  a thou- 
sand soldiers.  After  no  less  than  fifty  com- 
bats he  entered  Caracas  in  triumph. 

His  fellow-citizens  gave  him  a great  ovation. 
Girls  strewed  roses  before  him.  The  crowds 
hailed  him  as  their  deliverer,  “el  libertador.” 
They  voted  that  he  should  have  all  the  powers 
of  a dictator  in  civil  and  military  affairs. 
But  the  Venezuelans  were  not  ready  for  self- 
government  after  three  centuries  of  Spanish 
rule.  When  Bolivar  appointed  his  ministers 
he  found  that  at  every  turn  he  must  direct  them 
all. 

The  Spaniards  were  not  conquered.  They 
sent  a new  army  and  defeated  the  republican 
forces.  Bolivar  fled  to  Jamaica.  Not  that 
he  had  given  up  hope  of  freeing  his  country. 
Not  that  he  had  abandoned  his  dream  of 
liberty.  He  never  despaired.  He  never  lost 
heart.  Later  his  enemies  described  him  as  a 
man  more  terrible  in  defeat  than  when  he 
conquered.  As  he  was  leaving  Venezuela  he 
said,  “There  is  no  power  in  the  world  capable 
of  arresting  me  in  the  work  in  which  I am 
engaged.  God  reserves  victory  to  constancy.” 

In  Jamaica  and  on  the  island  of  Haiti  he 
gathered  the  fugitive  patriots  together.  They 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


213 


needed  help  of  every  kind — arms  and  ships 
and  money.  The  negro  president  of  Haiti 
welcomed  Bolivar  and  gave  him  warm  support 
in  his  struggle  with  Spain,  but  with  one  con- 
dition— that  when  success  came  he  would  free 
the  slaves  in  Venezuela.  He  promised  and 
loyally  kept  his  word,  more  than  forty  years 
before  Lincoln’s  proclamation  gave  freedom 
to  the  slaves  in  the  northern  hemisphere. 

Another  friend  for  the  cause  was  found  in 
Haiti,  a Dutch  ship-builder  who  fitted  out 
seven  schooners  and  gave  also  three  thousand 
muskets.  On  the  last  day  of  1816  Bolivar 
sailed  back  to  Venezuela.  He  had  three  hun- 
dred men,  the  same  number  that  marched  with 
Leonidas,  and  his  equalled  that  Spartan  force 
in  courage  and  patriotism.  He  issued  a 
proclamation  summoning  representatives  of 
the  Venezuelan  people  to  a general  congress. 
Then  he  burned  his  seven  ships.  Now  the 
adventure  must  end  in  success  or  death ! 

Spain  had  sent  another  army  with  orders  to 
subdue  the  rebellious  colonies  at  any  cost. 
For  a year  Bolivar  carried  on  confused  opera- 
tions against  it.  Then  tired  of  aimless  march- 
ings and  countermarchings  he  thought  out  a 
plan — a daring  plan  that  needed  desperate 


214  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


courage  to  carry  through.  In  the  history  of 
the  world  there  are  only  one  or  two  exploits  to 
compare  with  this. 

There  was  little  to  be  accomplished  just 
then  in  Venezuela.  In  New  Granada  a 
republican  army  kept  up  the  fight  for  liberty. 
Why  not  cross  the  mountains,  unite  all  the 
patriot  forces  and  push  their  enemy  toward 
the  northern  hills  and  the  sea?  Success 
would  come  through  surprise  and  the  enthu- 
siastic support  of  the  people  living  in  the 
territory  to  be  invaded. 

It  was  the  wrong  season  of  the  year  for 
such  a crossing?  Odds  against  him,  odds  of 
nature,  odds  in  favor  of  the  Spanish  Bolivar 
never  counted.  He  bent  every  energy  to 
carry  out  his  plan  and  promptly,  before  his 
foes  should  learn  of  it. 

The  first  few  days  the  march  was  across 
broad,  open  plains  up  to  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains. In  the  dry  season  a hard  track  led 
through  waving  grasses,  past  empty  river  beds, 
by  knolls  crowned  with  tall  trees.  Now  the 
rainy  season  had  set  in.  The  flat  country  was 
flooded.  Every  little  stream  was  a river. 
The  knolls  were  islands.  The  hard  track  was 
liquid  mud. 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


215 


The  little  patriot  army  waded  knee  deep, 
waist  deep.  Scarcely  stopping  for  an  hour 
the  rain  beat  down  upon  them.  Each  day  they 
crossed  a dozen  streams,  fording  when  they 
could,  swimming,  or  ferrying  themselves  over 
in  boats  made  of  hides. 

Once  across  the  wide  plains  matters  became 
not  better,  but  worse.  Great  cascades  tumbled 
down  from  the  mountain  heights.  The  road 
led  along  the  edge  of  precipices.  On  one  side 
it  was  marked  by  huge  trees  whose  tops  were 
lost  in  the  mist.  The  rain  kept  on  day  after 
day.  Up  and  up  went  the  march. 

Often  the  path  was  blocked  by  landslides. 
The  men  crossed  raging  torrents  on  tree  trunks 
that  shook  with  every  step.  Sometimes  they 
made  hanging  bridges  of  hide-ropes  lashed  to 
either  bank  and  went  across  in  “cradles”  each 
holding  two  soldiers.  In  his  faded  blue 
uniform  with  the  red  facings  Bolivar  passed 
and  repassed  these  streams  on  horseback, 
always  with  a sick  man  behind  his  saddle. 

Up  and  still  up  they  went.  The  clouds 
were  below  them.  There  was  nothing  to  see 
but  huge  rocks  and  masses  of  snow.  The 
troops  were  used  to  the  warm,  moist  air  of  the 
plains.  Now  they  met  cold  fogs  and  a pierc- 


216  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


mg  wind  that  the  stoutest  clothing  could  not 
shut  out. 

A hundred  soldiers  of  the  enemy  could  have 
trapped  them  in  those  ravines.  But  Bolivar 
had  not  chosen  the  ordinary  pass  for  crossing 
the  Andes.  Lest  the  Spanish  might  be  expect- 
ing him  he  had  turned  to  a disused  track  that 
led  over  a desolate  height. 

Complaints  broke  out.  The  men  began  to 
murmur.  Would  their  hardihood  fail  now? 
A council  of  war  was  summoned.  Frankly 
Bolivar  talked  with  his  officers. 

“I  will  hide  nothing  from  you.  In  all  likeli- 
hood there  are  perils  ahead  of  us  worse  than 
any  we’ve  encountered.  Shall  we  go  on?  Or 
shall  we  abandon  our  attempt?” 

“Forward!”  came  the  answer. 

Weary,  exhausted  they  were  still  ready  to 
follow  him.  At  last  the  handful  of  wretched, 
famished  men  were  across  the  pass.  Before 
them  lay  broad  valleys,  green  and  fertile. 
They  saw  sunshine  once  more.  The  people 
of  a village  poured  out  to  welcome  them. 
They  brought  food  and  tobacco.  The  soldiers 
threw  themselves  down  to  rest  in  the  sunshine 
and  fell  to  polishing  their  rusty  guns. 

Bolivar  had  done  the  impossible! 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


217 


Where  the  enemy  least  expected  him  he  sud- 
denly appeared.  The  Spanish  general  moved 
toward  Bogota  to  avoid  being  cut  off  from  the 
capital.  The  battle  came  at  the  bridge  near 
Boyaca.  Bolivar  placed  a large  part  of  his 
force  in  ambush.  When  attacked  the  few 
visible  troops  gave  way  in  a pretended  panic. 
The  enemy  pursued.  From  both  sides  the  con- 
cealed patriots  rushed  forth.  The  cavalry 
swept  down  from  the  rear.  In  two  hours  the 
day  was  won. 

The  Spanish  general  flung  away  his  sword 
to  avoid  having  to  surrender  it.  He  was  taken 
prisoner  on  the  battlefield  with  almost  all  of 
his  officers  and  more  than  sixteen  hundred 
men.  The  road  to  Bogota  was  open.  Boli- 
var entered  that  capital  amid  the  wildest  re- 
joicings. New  Granada  was  free! 

Success  in  the  west  meant  success  in  Vene- 
zuela. With  united  forces  the  patriot  armies 
marched  eastward.  At  Carabobo  they  de- 
feated the  Spanish  by  a clever  flank  movement 
over  a wooded  hill  and  through  a ravine  so 
choked  with  briars  that  the  soldiers  had  to  pass 
in  single  file.  With  the  exception  of  one  for- 
tress the  enemy  had  been  driven  from  every 
post.  Venezuela  was  free! 


218  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


For  the  second  time  Simon  Bolivar  entered 
Caracas  in  triumph.  Nor  was  this  a tempo- 
rary success  like  the  other.  A government 
was  established  uniting  New  Granada  and 
Venezuela  as  the  republic  of  Colombia.  There 
was  only  one  man  to  be  president,  Bolivar 
whom  the  people  acclaimed  as  their  liberator, 
the  father  of  his  country. 

By  1823  he  wTas  free  to  help  Ecuador  and 
Peru,  to  complete  the  work  of  “saving  a world 
from  slavery.”  More  than  one  great  battle 
was  fought  before  Spain  would  acknowledge 
herself  defeated — the  famous  one  of  forty-five 
minutes  at  Junin  where  not  a shot  was  fired, 
but  the  soldiers  on  both  sides  used  only  lance 
and  saber ; and  the  equally  famous  one  at  Aya- 
cucho  won  by  Sucre,  Bolivar’s  second-in-com- 
mand. 

After  two  years  of  hard  struggle  Peru  was 
free.  She  voted  her  deliverer  a million  dollars 
which  he  used  to  buy  the  freedom  of  one  thou- 
sand slaves. 

Next  he  must  help  the  district  called  Upper 
Peru  which  later  changed  its  name  to  Bolivia 
in  his  honor.  He  was  declared  “protector” 
of  this  new  nation  and  the  leaders  asked 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


219 


him  to  draw  up  a constitution.  In  reply  Boli- 
var urged  them  to  call  a congress. 

“A  victorious  soldier,”  said  he,  “does  not  ac- 
quire the  right  to  govern.” 

For  these  new  countries  Bolivar  dreamed 
great  dreams,  far-seeing  visions  of  progress 
which  even  a century  has  not  been  long  enough 
to  see  fulfilled.  He  pointed  out  that  their 
greatest  need  was  popular  education.  He 
proposed  a fourth  division  of  the  government, 
a court  to  supervise  the  children’s  schooling 
and  the  maintenance  of  patriotism.  Its  do- 
main would  be  the  public  spirit,  the  hearts  of 
citizens. 

He  dreamed  too  of  a canal  across  the  isth- 
mus of  Panama.  It  would  shorten  the  world’s 
distances  and  bring  to  that  spot  the  treasures 
of  the  seven  seas.  It  would  be  the  site  of  a 
great  city  which  should  be  the  center  of  the 
universe,  facing  Asia  on  one  side,  Europe  and 
Africa  on  the  other.  It  would  be  the  seat  of 
a supreme  court  guarding  the  interests  of  the 
two  Americas. 

In  still  another  dream  Colombia  and  Ecua- 
dor, Peru  and  Bolivia  were  to  be  united  into  a 
great  federation  of  republics  like  the  United 


220  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


States.  It  would  reach  from  the  Caribbean 
Sea  to  the  valley  of  the  Amazon,  from  Atlantic 
to  Pacific.  Rut  dissensions  and  jealousies 
were  rife  among  the  people.  Instead  of  this 
federation  the  union  of  Colombia  and  Vene- 
zuela crumbled  during  Bolivar’s  lifetime. 

“I  have  ploughed  on  the  sand,”  he  said  bit- 
terly, heart-broken  at  the  apparent  failure  of 
his  work. 

Nine-tenths  of  his  great  fortune  Bolivar 
spent  in  the  service  of  his  country.  At  one 
time  he  controlled  the  revenues  of  three  na- 
tions, but  he  never  touched  a penny  of  public 
moneys.  He  conquered  wealthy  provinces, 
but  refused  to  be  more  than  their  deliverer. 
Half  his  salary  as  president  of  Colombia  he 
used  for  the  widows  and  orphans  of  his 
soldiers. 

He  was  seized  with  a fatal  fever.  Anxious 
only  for  the  state  of  the  country  he  died  say- 
ing, “Union!  Union!”  The  last  of  his  inherit- 
ance had  been  used.  Friends  had  to  meet  the 
expenses  of  his  funeral. 

More  than  once  Caracas  asked  to  erect  a 
monument  in  his  honor. 

“No,”  was  his  reply,  “never  raise  monu- 
ments to  a man  in  his  lifetime.  He  may 


SOUTH  AMERICA 


221 


change.  He  may  betray.  You’ll  never  have 
to  charge  me  with  this.  But  wait,  wait  I say 
again.  After  my  death  you  can  judge  with- 
out prejudice  and  accord  what  honors  you 
think  suitable.” 

With  pomp  and  ceremony  his  remains  were 
moved  to  his  native  city  and  a beautiful  statue 
was  erected.  Today  coins  and  squares,  streets 
and  towns  and  provinces  in  the  five  countries 
he  helped  to  free,  are  called  after  him.  His 
name  and  fame  are  everywhere  throughout 
South  America.  And  on  this  twenty-fourth 
of  July  Venezuela  and  Peru,  Bolivia  and  Col- 
ombia and  Ecuador,  a territory  two-thirds  as 
large  as  Europe,  keep  his  birthday. 


THE  VIGIL  ON  THE  CARTEL  SHIP 


THE  THIRTEENTH  OF  SEPTEMBER 

“What’s  this  you  say,  Mr.  West?  Dr. 
Beanes  taken  off  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
by  the  British?  And  they  won’t  let  you  see 
him?” 

“That’s  right.  We  thought,  his  friends 
and  patients  in  Marlborough,  that  you  were 
just  the  man  to  help  us.  You’re  a lawyer, 
Mr.  Key,  and  the  old  doctor’s  friend.  So  I 
came  out  to  Georgetown  to  tell  you  of  his 
arrest  and  the  rough  treatment  they  gave  him. 
I was  certain  you’d  go.” 

“Go — go  where?  What  can  I do?” 

“First,  get  a letter  from  the  Secretary  of 
State  to  Colonel  Skinner,  our  agent  for  the 
parole  of  prisoners.  Then  go  out  to  the  Brit- 
ish admiral  under  a flag  of  truce  and  intercede 
with  him  before  the  fleet  sails.  How  could 
they  break  in  at  the  doctor’s  house,”  West  con- 
tinued with  growing  indignation,  “and  drag 

him  out  of  bed  with  hardly  time  to  dress,  and 

222 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  223 


march  him  off  to  their  camp  astride  a bare- 
back  mule?  Why,  Dr.  Beanes  has  taken  care 
of  all  our  family  for  years.  You  remember 
what  he  did  for  the  wounded  after  the  battle 
of  Long  Island,  and  at  the  Brandywine  in  that 
first  hospital  Congress  established?  Surely 
you  will  go?” 

“Yes,”  said  Francis  Scott  Key,  “I’ll  go. 
I’ll  do  my  best,  though  I warn  you  it’s  no  easy 
task,  nor  pleasant  either.  But  on  what 
grounds  did  they  take  Dr.  Beanes  prisoner?” 

“Well,  Marlborough  people  say  the  old  doc- 
tor and  two  friends  were  in  the  garden  when  a 
group  of  British  soldiers,  straggling  maraud- 
ers from  the  main  army,  broke  in.  I suppose 
they  were  elated  over  their  victory  of  the  day 
before.  At  any  rate  they  were  insolent  and 
disorderly.  On  the  doctor’s  complaint  they 
were  arrested  and  lodged  in  the  Marlborough 
jail.  One  brawny  fellow  made  his  escape  in 
the  night  and  told  Admiral  Cockburn  some  ex- 
aggerated tale  about  how  the  doctor  tried  to 
poison  them.  So  a squad  of  marines  was  sent 
to  arrest  him  in  revenge. 

“But  at  their  headquarters  the  British  tell 
quite  another  story.  They  told  us  Dr.  Beanes 
had  been  their  host  on  their  way  down  to 


224  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Washington  and  now  had  broken  his  parole. 
Just  think — a man  of  honor  like  the  old  doc- 
tor breaking  his  word !” 

With  Francis  Scott  Key  to  decide  on  a diffi- 
cult task  was  to  set  about  it  at  once.  He  went 
to  the  State  Department  for  the  necessary  let- 
ter. The  next  morning,  the  fourth  of  Sep- 
tember, 1814  he  left  his  home  in  Georgetown 
for  Baltimore. 

There  he  sought  the  help  of  Colonel  John 
Skinner.  No  one  knew  exactly  where  the 
British  fleet  was — somewffiere  in  Chesapeake 
Bay.  Thej"  set  sail  in  the  Minden,  the  cartel 
ship,  in  search  of  Admiral  Cockburn. 

Traveling  was  far  slower  then  than  now". 
Under  the  best  of  conditions  it  took  two  days 
to  sail  down  from  Baltimore.  It  wras  probably 
the  seventh  of  the  month  when  the  Miiiden 
neared  the  flagship  of  the  enemy’s  fleet  and  the 
tw"o  Americans  went  aboard  writh  a flag  of 
truce. 

Colonel  Skinner  was  of  course  well  known 
to  the  British  officers.  Politely  they  received 
their  callers.  But  when  Mr.  Key  told  his  er- 
rand the  British  admiral  was  in  no  mood  to 
grant  the  request. 

“No,”  he  answrered,  “Dr.  Beanes  has  in- 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  225 


flicted  atrocious  injuries  on  His  Majesty’s 
troops.  He  deserves  the  most  severe  punish- 
ment. He  shall  be  hung  to  the  yard  arm  of 
the  flagship!” 

So  coldly  was  the  application  received  Key 
feared  his  mission  would  fail.  But  Mr.  West 
had  chosen  wisely.  Francis  Scott  Key  was  an 
eloquent  speaker.  He  had  a gracious  man- 
ner, a pleasing  personality.  He  was,  in  short, 
a southern  gentleman,  courteous  and  tactful. 

Did  he  dwell  on  the  respect  which  the  whole 
community  felt  for  Dr.  Beanes?  Did  he  argue 
that  a man  of  such  character  and  standing 
could  not  be  guilty  of  these  charges?  Or  did 
he  rely  on  the  letters  Colonel  Skinner  brought 
to  some  British  officers  from  their  comrades 
wounded  in  the  fighting  a few  days  before — 
letters  which  told  the  warm  appreciation  they 
all  felt  for  the  careful  treatment  and  the  kind- 
nesses the  good  doctor  had  showed  them? 

Whichever  it  was,  Mr.  Key  was  victorious. 
The  admiral  promised  to  release  Dr.  Beanes. 

“But,”  he  added,  “you  can  not  go  ashore 
just  now.  We’re  about  to  make  an  expedition. 
We  can’t  run  the  risk  of  your  giving  the  enemy 
any  information  of  the  preparations  you’ve 
seen  or  heard  aboard  our  fleet.  Of  course 


226  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


we’ll  try  to  make  you  as  comfortable  as  pos- 
sible. I must  apologize  for  not  being  able  to 
accommodate  you  here,  but  we’re  already 
crowded.  I’ll  transfer  you  to  the  ship  my  son 
commands.” 

Colonel  Skinner,  Mr.  Key  and  the  old  doc- 
tor, now  a free  man  once  more,  sailed  with  the 
British  fleet  and  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  Patapsco  River. 
Then  under  a guard  of  marines  they  were 
taken  off  to  their  own  vessel,  the  Minden.  By 
the  admiral’s  orders  it  was  anchored  where 
they  could  watch  the  attack.  They  would  be 
eyewitnesses  of  the  great  British  victory,  of 
the  defeat  of  their  countrymen. 

Every  movement  of  the  enemy  they  ob- 
served and  with  anxious  hearts  debated  the 
outcome.  They  knew  their  militia  had  been 
routed  at  Bladensburg.  They  knew  about  the 
burning  of  Washington.  They  knew  what  de- 
fenses Baltimore  had — earthworks  hastily 
thrown  up  east  of  the  city,  some  vessels  sunk 
in  the  channel,  and  several  small  batteries 
added  to  Fort  McHenry,  standing  sentinel  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river.  They  knew  what  de- 
fenders the  city  had — raw  militia  to  meet 
trained  and  hardened  veterans. 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  227 


They  knew  too  what  a grudge  the  British 
had  against  Baltimore.  “A  nest  of  pirates,” 
they  called  it  and  marked  it  out  for  special 
vengeance  because  it  was  the  home  of  swift 
privateers  that  preyed  on  their  commerce. 
Key  knew  that  an  English  general  had 
boasted,  “ I don’t  care  if  it  rains  militia ! I’ll 
take  Baltimore  and  make  it  my  winter  head- 
quarters.” 

Prisoners  on  an  American  vessel,  the  three 
watched  for  three  days  the  landing  of  the  Brit- 
ish army  of  nine  thousand.  They  saw  the  lines 
drawn  up  in  hostile  array  at  North  Point,  a 
dozen  miles  from  Baltimore.  From  the  road 
leading  to  the  city  they  heard  the  booming  of 
cannon,  the  roar  of  rapid-firing  muskets.  It 
was  a calm  September  morning.  The  breeze 
brought  the  sound  clearly.  How  was  the  bat- 
tle going? 

The  Americans,  they  were  to  learn  after- 
ward, held  the  enemy  in  check.  On  the  death 
of  the  British  general  the  officer  left  in  com- 
mand hesitated  to  attack  again.  Why  not 
wait  till  the  fleet  passing  Fort  McHenry  could 
bombard  the  city  and  cooperate  with  the  army  ? 

But  a hitch  occurred  in  this  plan. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  the 


228  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


three  watchers  on  the  Minden  saw  sixteen  ves- 
sels sail  up  and  form  in  a great  half -circle  op- 
posite Fort  McHenry.  Francis  Scott  Key 
and  the  doctor  plied  Colonel  Skinner  with 
questions,  but  he  could  tell  them  little.  The 
fort  was  in  command  of  Colonel  George  Ar- 
mistead.  He  had  perhaps  twelve  hundred 
men,  counting  three  companies  of  volunteers 
from  Baltimore. 

“But  why  doesn’t  he  fire  back?”  asked  Key 
anxiously.  “Hasn’t  he  some  finely  placed 
batteries  and  heavy  guns?” 

“Yes.  But  the  British  are  out  of  reach. 
See  how  far  they  stay,  out  of  harm’s  way. 
They’re  a good  two  miles  from  the  fort.  But 
their  bombs  are  reaching  her.  Here,  take  the 
glasses.  Some  pass  over,  but  some  are  burst- 
ing right  above  the  fort.” 

“Oh!  Four  or  five  all  at  once!  It  makes 
a double  explosion.  They’re  pumping  their 
heavy  bombs  on  our  poor  little  fort,  never 
stopping.  But  tell  me,  why  do  our  men  fire 
back  now  and  again?” 

“That’s  to  let  them  know  the  garrison  has 
not  surrendered.” 

About  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  some 
of  the  British  vessels  moved  in  closer  to  the 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  229 


fort.  Key  saw  them  come  within  range  of 
Armistead’s  guns.  Bombs  and  shells  hailed 
down  upon  them.  His  heart  leaped  as  he 
watched  the  firing  of  his  countrymen.  How 
deliberately  they  were  aiming!  Every  shot 
told.  It  must  be  getting  hot  for  the  enemy. 
In  half  an  hour  they  slipped  their  cables  and 
sailed  back  out  of  distance. 

Later  Key  learned  the  cause  of  this.  One 
of  the  American  guns  was  struck  and  blown 
off  its  carriage.  The  flurry  of  caring  for  the 
wounded  and  remounting  the  gun  made  the 
British  think  there  was  great  confusion  in  the 
fort.  So  they  sailed  in  closer,  but  soon  re- 
turned to  a respectful  distance. 

After  this  little  incident  the  fight  went  on 
as  before.  Keeping  outside  the  range  of  the 
fort’s  guns  the  British  threw  bomb  after 
bomb.  The  horrible  clatter  never  ceased. 
Explosion  followed  explosion. 

The  hours  went  slowly  by.  The  flag  on  the 
fort,  Key  saw  with  the  glasses,  drooped  round 
its  staff.  But  at  twilight  there  came  a cool, 
gentle  breeze.  The  air  stirred  and  caught  its 
folds.  In  a last  salute  to  the  sun  the  stars 
and  stripes  unfurled  over  the  ramparts  of  Fort 
McHenry. 


230  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Just  then  a shell  pierced  the  flag.  One  of 
the  stars  was  torn  away.  Key’s  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  he  saw  it. 

Night  fell  hiding  the  fifteen  stripes 
of  red  and  white,  hiding  the  fifteen  white 
stars  on  the  field  of  blue.  Bravely,  defiantly 
the  flag  was  flying  in  the  face  of  English  can- 
non. Would  it  be  still  flying  when  morning 
came? 

The  enemy’s  movements  could  no  longer  be 
seen.  Worn  out  by  the  excitement  of  the 
day,  the  old  doctor  went  below  to  rest. 
Colonel  Skinner  joined  him.  But  Francis 
Scott  Key  had  no  thought  of  sleep.  Anxious, 
wakeful  he  paced  the  deck  of  the  cartel  ship 
all  night  long.  Wondering,  praying  he 
listened,  listened  to  the  firing  which  never 
stopped,  to  the  occasional  shot  that  answered 
from  the  little  fort. 

About  one  o’clock  the  noise  increased. 
Key  heard  the  British  give  three  cheers.  The 
American  guns  fired  quickly  over  and  over 
again.  The  enemy  sent  up  rockets  to  guide 
the  twelve  hundred  marines  who  were  landing 
with  scaling  ladders  to  storm  the  fort  in  the 
rear.  They  made  quick  flashes  of  light  here 
and  there  on  the  river,  on  the  shore,  and  then 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  281 


went  out  leaving  the  darkness  blacker  than 
before. 

Key  watched  this  bombardment  with  bated 
breath,  with  throbbing  heart.  There  was 
shower  after  shower  of  shot  from  all  the  guns 
of  the  fort,  from  the  batteries  at  the  quarantine 
station,  from  the  barges  in  the  river.  The 
British  fleet  responded  with  entire  broadsides. 
For  two  hours  the  sky  was  filled  with  flame 
and  thunder. 

The  bursting  of  the  bombs  and  the  red  glare 
of  the  rockets  made  the  heavens  aglow  with  a 
seething  sea  of  fire.  The  water  of  the  harbor 
was  lashed  into  angry  waves.  The  Minden 
tossed  about  as  though  in  a tempest. 

In  the  midst  of  the  terrific  explosions  Key 
heard  not  cheering,  but  the  cries  of  wounded 
and  dying  men.  Did  they  come  from  the  fort  ? 
from  the  transports  ? What  did  they  mean  ? 

Then  came  a sudden  silence. 

Not  a shot  was  fired.  An  awful,  deathlike 
stillness  reigned.  The  suspense  was  unbear- 
able. Had  Armistead  and  his  men  made  a 
last  gallant  effort  before  they  surrendered? 
Had  the  British  abandoned  the  attack? 

As  long  as  the  guns  of  the  fort  kept  up 
their  firing  Key  knew  its  defenders  were  un- 


232  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


dismayed.  But  this  silence  was  ominous. 
Was  it  victory?  He  was  afraid  to  hope. 
Was  it  defeat?  The  lonely  man  paced  up 
and  down. 

The  night  sky  gave  no  answer  to  his  ques- 
tions: Had  Armistead  surrendered?  Were 

the  British  even  then  marching  that  short  two 
miles  into  the  city  ? When  day  came  at  last 
would  they  look  out  from  the  Minden  on  a 
scene  of  havoc  and  plunder  and  fire?  Would 
the  British  flag  or  the  stars  and  stripes  be  wav- 
ing over  Fort  McHenry? 

Anxiously  Key  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
must  be  nearly  morning.  Colonel  Skinner 
joined  him.  In  the  sky  came  the  first  gray 
streaks  of  dawn.  Over  the  fort  hung  a heavy 
fog  of  smoke  and  mist.  It  enveloped  the 
harbor  and  lay  close  to  the  surface  of  the 
water. 

At  last  in  the  east  showed  a bright  line  of 
gold  and  crimson.  Another  and  another.  In 
its  full  glory  the  sun  rose.  The  mist  over  the 
river  lifted.  With  the  glasses  turned  on  the 
little  fort  they  could  see  a flag  flying. 

“Oh!”  cried  Key,  “oh!  It’s  the  star-span- 
gled banner!” 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  233 

His  words  were  exulting,  like  a prayer 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  His  heart  was 
bursting. 

The  stars  and  stripes  caught  the  first  gleam 
of  the  morning  light.  In  the  river  red  and 
white  and  blue  were  reflected  as  in  a mirror. 

The  darkness  and  gloom  of  night  were 
gone.  The  long  vigil  of  the  American  on  the 
cartel  ship  was  ended.  That  flag  waving  in 
triumph  after  a steady  bombardment  of 
twenty-four  hours  told  the  whole  story. 

Baffled  the  enemy’s  fleet  was  drawing  off. 
Soon  after  sunrise  word  came  from  the  British 
to  Colonel  Skinner  that  the  attack  had  failed. 
When  their  vessels  had  dropped  down  the 
river  the  Americans  were  at  liberty  to  go 
ashore. 

On  the  back  of  a letter  Francis  Scott  Key 
wrote  down  his  thoughts,  the  first  lines  of  a 
poem.  In  the  little  boat  that  took  the  three  up 
to  Baltimore  he  finished  the  stanzas  that  filled 
his  mind  and  heart.  The  next  morning  he 
showed  them  to  a friend  who  liked  them  so 
much  that  he  said,  “We  must  have  this  printed 
without  delay.” 

That  night  at  a theater  in  Baltimore  the 


234  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


words  were  sung  to  a well  known  tune. 
Copies  of  the  poem  were  handed  out  on  the 
street.  In  an  hour  it  was  all  over  the  city. 
Every  one  sang  or  whistled  it.  News  of  the 
British  attack  and  the  defense  of  Baltimore 
went  speedily  through  the  United  States. 
With  it  went  the  song  written  by  Francis  Scott 
Key.  In  a fortnight  distant  New  Orleans 
was  singing  “The  Star-spangled  Banner.” 

For  more  than  a hundred  years  Americans 
have  sung  it  and  have  loved  it.  Every  word 
came  warm  from  the  heart  of  the  man  who 
witnessed  that  thrilling  scene.  Every  word 
finds  a response  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  sing. 

What  a poem  it  is  for  spirit  and  for  beauty! 
Written  during  all  the  excitement  of  battle, 
during  the  falling  of  shot  and  shell,  of  bombs 
and  rockets,  there’s  scarcely  a word  of  fighting 
in  its  four  stanzas.  Written  by  a southerner, 
it  has  no  hint  of  North  or  South,  only  of  loy- 
alty to  the  nation.  Written  by  a man  held  by 
British  orders  there  is  no  suggestion  of 
triumph  over  an  enemy.  It  is  a prayer  for  the 
future  of  America,  the  land  of  the  free. 

This  is  the  story  of  the  glorious,  faded, 
tattered  flag  with  the  fifteen  stripes  and  fif- 
teen stars,  now  in  the  National  Museum  in 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  235 


Washington — the  flag  that  floated  over  Fort 
McHenry  in  1814.  This  is  the  story  of  the 
holiday  celebrated  each  September  in  the  state 
of  Maryland. 


ON  THE  JANICULUM  HILL 


THE  TWENTIETH  OF  SEPTEMBER 

This  is  a gala  day  in  Italy.  From  Lom- 
bardy in  the  north  to  Sicily  in  the  south  the 
people  are  rejoicing.  Red,  white  and  green 
flags  are  flying  everywhere — in  Milan  and 
Venice,  in  Naples  and  Palermo  and  Florence, 
in  the  little  island  of  Caprera  off  the  coast  of 
Sardinia. 

Nowhere  is  the  holiday  spirit  more  evident 
than  in  Rome.  Soldiers  and  civilians  throng 
that  narrow  main  street  called  the  Corso.  The 
king  is  holding  a grand  review.  The  people 
cheer  him  as  he  rides  along  with  his  staff,  cheer 
the  Italian  flag,  cheer  the  gallant  Bersaglieri, 
the  king’s  own  regiment  in  dark  uniforms  and 
broad-brimmed  hats  plumed  with  green  cock 
feathers.  Over  and  over  again  they  call  out, 
“Viva  lTtalia!  Viva  r Italia!” 

As  the  king  rides  by  the  Janiculum  Hill  and 
the  equestrian  statue  there,  he  bares  his  head 
in  silent  homage  to  that  figure  of  a soldier 

236 


ITALY 


287 


overlooking  the  city  on  the  seven  hills.  The 
crowds  see  his  action  and  cry  out  again,  “Viva 
l’ltalia  e Victor  Emmanuel!”  And  some  of 
them  cry,  “Viva  lTtalia  e Garibaldi!” 

This  gala  day  is  not  so  old  as  many  other 
national  holidays.  Only  to  1870  can  it  look 
back,  so  new  is  Italy  among  the  countries  of 
the  world — the  true  Italy,  once  merely  “a 
geographical  expression,”  a house  divided 
against  itself,  now  united  into  one  strong 
government. 

On  the  twentieth  of  September,  1870  there 
was  fighting  in  Rome.  The  French  troops 
who  had  for  years  been  stationed  there  to 
defend  the  pope  were  called  home  by  the  out- 
break of  the  Prussian  war.  At  last,  at  last 
came  the  opportunity  for  which  the  patriots  of 
Italy  impatiently  waited.  Victor  Emmanuel 
called  upon  Pius  IX  to  surrender.  Only  to 
force  would  the  pope  yield.  The  king  directed 
his  army  to  march  on  the  city. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  attack  began. 
The  papal  troops  were  very  few.  They  were 
powerless  to  resist  fifty  thousand  trained  sol- 
diers. Near  the  Porta  Pia  a breach  was  made 
in  the  walls.  Crying  “Viva  Savoia!”  the 
king’s  men  dashed  through.  By  noon  the 


238  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


whole  city  was  in  their  hands.  At  St.  Peter’s 
a white  flag  was  hoisted. 

After  fifteen  hundred  years  Rome  had  be- 
come the  capital  of  a united  Italy.  Yes,  for 
fifteen  centuries  her  people  had  dreamed  of 
this  day — dreamed  though  foreign  rulers  tyr- 
annized over  them  for  a thousand  years, 
dreamed  though  the  country  was  broken  up 
into  a dozen  little  kingdoms,  duchies,  grand 
duchies  and  republics,  an  easy  prey  to  stronger 
neighbors. 

Not  till  the  following  June  was  the  govern- 
ment moved  from  Florence  to  Rome.  Not 
till  then  did  Victor  Emmanuel  enter  the  city 
riding  side  by  side  with  the  man  in  the  red 
shirt.  Not  till  five  months  later  did  the  first 
all-Italy  parliament  meet  in  the  palace  on  the 
Capitol.  The  king  opened  its  session  saying, 
“The  work  to  which  we  have  devoted  our  lives 
is  accomplished.”  He  was  interrupted  by  such 
a storm  of  applause  that  the  cheering  was 
heard  in  far  distant  streets. 

But  the  people  of  Italy  did  not  need  to  wait 
for  these  later  events.  When  the  Bersaglieri 
dashed  through  the  walls  of  Rome  on  that 
twentieth  of  September,  for  them  the  dream 
had  come  true.  And  it  is  this  date  they  have 


ITALY  289 

made  their  great  holiday,  celebrating  the 
triumph  of  Italian  unity. 

To  whom  was  this  triumph  due  ? 

Some  say  to  a short,  thickset,  little  man  with 
monstrous  mustachios,  Victor  Emmanuel,  the 
first  king  of  modern  Italy.  He  was  the  young 
duke  of  Savoy  when  his  father  abdicated  and 
made  him  king  of  Sardinia.  With  good  rea- 
son the  soldiers  loved  him,  for  he  was  himself 
a soldier  born  and  bred.  During  one  battle 
when  victory  seemed  to  smile  on  the  Austrians, 
sword  in  hand  he  rode  toward  a regiment,  his 
eyes  flashing,  his  mustachios  bristling  on  end, 
and  cried,  “With  me,  Guards,  to  save  the 
honor  of  Savoy!”  The  famous  Zouaves  were 
filled  with  admiration  for  his  fiery  valor  when 
they  saw  him  rally  his  men  and  lead  a charge 
that  gained  the  day. 

Offered  easier  terms  by  Austria  if  he  would 
recall  the  constitution  granted  by  his  father 
and  fly  the  standard  of  Savoy  instead  of  the 
Italian  flag,  he  refused  without  a moment’s 
hesitation.  Boldly  he  affirmed  that  he  would 
“preserve  intact  the  constitution  and  uphold 
the  tricolor,  the  symbol  of  Italian  nationality 
which  vanquished  today  will  one  day  triumph.” 
He  must  perforce  accept  the  harsh  terms  of 


240  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


peace  which  Austria  dictated.  But  he  rode 
away  from  Novara  waving  aloft  his  sword  and 
exclaiming  in  resolute  terms,  “Italia  sara!” 
(Italy  shall  be!) 

He  won  the  confidence  of  his  subjects  by 
his  strength  of  character  and  honesty  of  pur- 
pose. II  re  galantuomo,  the  king  who  is  a man 
of  honor  they  called  him,  a title  won  by  a life- 
time’s devotion  to  Italian  liberty.  Shrewd  he 
was  and  bold,  with  dash  and  impetuous  energy, 
always  a man  of  his  word.  Yes,  Italy  owes 
much  to  Victor  Emmanuel. 

Some  there  are  who  think  the  credit  goes 
to  Mazzini,  the  poet  and  dreamer  who  at  six- 
teen put  on  mourning  for  Italy  and  wore  it  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  Dreaming  of  a free  and 
united  country  he  organized  “Young  Italy,” 
a society  which  in  two  years  grew  to  sixty 
thousand  and  was  perhaps  the  greatest  one 
cause  of  final  success.  In  the  hearts  of 
Italians  it  roused  the  spirit  of  nationality. 

Mazzini  was  tireless  in  conspiracy.  Exiled 
from  his  own  land,  driven  from  France  and 
Switzerland  he  lived  for  years  in  England. 
Always  he  preached  and  taught  freedom  for 
Italy.  Always  he  was  plotting  and  counter- 
plotting, urging  and  encouraging.  It  was  he 


ITALY 


241 


who  planned  the  desperate  raid  (one  of  many 
such)  which  ended  in  Garibaldi’s  proscription. 
It  was  he  who  first  told  Europe,  in  a periodical 
he  published  in  London  and  later  in  news- 
papers in  Florence  and  Genoa  and  Turin,  of 
the  South  American  exploits  of  the  man  in  the 
red  shirt ; and  told  them  in  such  glowing  colors 
that  on  his  return  to  Italy  Garibaldi  found 
himself  with  a widespread  reputation  as  a dash- 
ing, skilful  leader.  He  had  only  to  ask  for 
soldiers  and  they  rallied  round  him.  Ah  yes, 
to  Mazzini,  the  soul  of  Italy,  who  breathed  a 
new  hope  into  his  countrymen  is  owed  more 
than  can  ever  be  repaid. 

Some  there  are  who  say  the  triumph  of  Sep- 
tember twentieth  was  due  to  Count  Cavour, 
the  constructive  statesman  of  modern  Italy. 
A newspaper  editor,  a practical  farmer,  a stu- 
dent and  traveler,  he  became  Victor  Em- 
manuel’s chief  adviser.  He  was  keen  enough 
to  see  that  Italy’s  independence  could  be  won 
only  through  the  conflict  of  her  stronger  neigh- 
bors. He  was  a master  hand  at  diplomacy,  at 
all  the  ins  and  outs  of  trading  and  negotiating. 

But  whatever  steps  Cavour  took — courting 
the  friendship  of  France,  goading  Austria  into 
war — he  kept  his  eyes  always  on  the  one  goal, 


242  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Italy’s  freedom.  Toward  this  single  purpose 
he  fused  the  hopes  of  Mazzini,  the  incredible 
leadership  of  Garibaldi,  the  king’s  enlightened 
patriotism.  The  whole  responsibility  of  the 
government  he  carried  on  his  shoulders.  Men 
called  him  the  brain  of  Italy.  His  health  gave 
way  so  that  he  died  at  fifty.  “If  I had  died 
instead,”  said  Victor  Emmanuel,  “it  would 
have  been  better  for  Italy.”  Yes,  the  new  na- 
tion owes  much  to  Cavour,  the  master  builder. 

But  give  as  generously  as  you  will  their  dues 
to  brave  and  resolute  king,  to  brilliant  prime 
minister,  to  exile  clad  in  black,  his  countrymen 
give  a greater  praise  to  Giuseppe  Garibaldi, 
the  sword  of  Italy.  In  all  of  modern  history 
can  you  find  a story  as  romantic,  as  full  of 
chivalry  and  daring,  of  headlong  courage  and 
self-denial  as  the  tale  of  the  man  in  the  red 
shirt  ? 

Like  all  his  family  since  the  days  of  Colum- 
bus Garibaldi  was  bred  a sailor.  In  eleven 
years  he  worked  up  from  cabin-boy  to  master. 
He  was  only  a lad  when  he  sailed  with  his 
father  to  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber  and  the  two 
went  up  to  Rome.  His  imagination  was  fired 
as  they  walked  through  the  streets  breathing 
of  twenty-five  centuries  of  glory.  He  passed 


ITALY 


243 


ruins  that  told  of  imperial  Rome,  once  mistress 
of  the  world.  He  saw  priests  and  monks  and 
cardinals  and  papal  soldiers  telling  of 
spiritual  Rome  and  many  years  of  church  his- 
tory. The  memory  of  the  city’s  former  name 
made  him  believe  firmly  in  her  future  great- 
ness. 

Now  he  saw  a third  Rome  sitting  proudly  on 
those  seven  hills  amid  all  the  beauty  and  grand- 
eur of  the  past.  This  was  a Rome  that  few 
men  even  dreamed  of — the  capital  of  a new 
Italy,  free  from  foreign  rule,  united.  Boy  as 
he  was  he  never  forgot  that  suggestion,  never 
lost  that  vision. 

He  was  as  overjoyed  as  Columbus  discover- 
ing a new  continent,  when  he  was  first  put  in 
touch  with  “Young  Italy.”  All  his  life  he 
took  Mazzini  as  his  guide  and  counselor,  his 
friend  and  teacher.  He  made  one  of  a band 
that  planned  a raid  into  Piedmont,  was  be- 
trayed and  outlawed,  sentenced  to  be  shot. 
Disguised  in  an  old  suit  of  peasant  clothes  he 
escaped  into  France  and  thence  to  South 
America. 

Now  a cattleman,  now  a tutor  in  mathe- 
matics he  fought  with  any  group  struggling 
for  freedom.  A wild  guerrilla  warfare  he 


244  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


carried  on,  sometimes  with  a few  score  of  fol- 
lowers, sometimes  with  a few  thousand,  but  al- 
ways against  great  odds.  His  name  was  a 
terror  to  the  enemy  on  land  and  sea,  His  ad- 
ventures totaled  an  incredible  number,  as  ex- 
citing and  thrilling  as  those  of  the  Cid  or 
Ulysses. 

Shot  down  on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  for  days 
at  the  point  of  death,  in  the  intervals  of  de- 
lirium he  set  the  course  for  his  men  who  had 
beaten  off  their  foes,  but  could  not  sail  the  ves- 
sel. He  was  taken  prisoner  and  hung  up  by 
the  wrists  for  two  hours;  later  the  man  guilty 
of  this  torture  fell  into  his  power  and  was  re- 
leased without  a word  of  reproach.  He  wan- 
dered for  days  in  the  forest.  Shipwrecked  he 
saved  his  life  by  his  remarkable  powers  of 
swimming. 

All  reward  for  his  services,  money  or  grants 
of  land,  he  refused.  Yet  he  was  so  poor  at  this 
time  that  he  possessed  just  one  red  shirt  and 
the  family  went  to  bed  at  sunset  to  save 
candles.  Always  he  dreamed  of  Italy  free 
and  united. 

In  1848  Europe  was  quivering  with  excite- 
ment. France  had  declared  herself  a republic. 
From  north  to  south  Italy  was  straining  like 


ITALY 


245 


a hound  in  leash.  After  more  than  a century 
of  the  rule  of  the  Bourbon  kings  Sicily  re- 
belled. The  king  of  Sardinia  granted  his 
people  a constitution.  Piedmont  began  war 
against  Austria. 

Yews  of  all  these  movements  reached  a little 
group  of  Italians,  exiles  and  refugees  in 
Montevideo.  Their  dauntless  leader  Gari- 
baldi had  been  dreaming  and  hoping  for  just 
this  opportunity.  Fighting  now  for  a prov- 
ince of  Brazil,  now  for  Uruguay  he  had  formed 
an  Italian  Legion  of  five  hundred  men,  plan- 
ning to  use  this  force  to  help  win  the  freedom 
of  their  native  land. 

Eighty-five  of  this  now  famous  Legion 
sailed  back  to  Italy,  crossed  the  Apennines  in 
the  teeth  of  snowstorms,  and  marched  toward 
Rome  spreading  the  gospel  of  liberty  through 
the  villages  on  their  way.  They  were  a gaunt 
group  dressed  in  the  red  shirts  of  South 
American  cattlemen,  with  pointed  hats  topped 
with  plumes,  their  legs  bare,  their  faces  tanned 
to  copper  color.  Riding  down  the  narrow 
Corso  at  their  head  was  the  outlaw  Garibaldi 
in  his  red  shirt  and  long  poncho  of  white  lined 
with  red,  with  a bright  handkerchief  loosely 
knotted  round  his  throat.  The  crowds 


246  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


shouted,  “He  has  come!  He  has  come!” 

The  pope  had  fled  from  Rome.  Garibaldi 
was  chosen  a member  of  the  assembly.  Crip- 
pled with  rheumatism  he  was  carried  into  the 
hall  by  a staff  officer,  to  be  present  when  the 
Roman  Republic  was  proclaimed.  His  was 
the  first  voice  to  cry  “Viva  la  Republica !”  For 
a brief  time  the  dream  of  his  boyhood,  of 
Italy’s  resurrection  was  true. 

The  rulers  of  Austria  and  Spain  and  France 
and  Naples  joined  forces  to  restore  the  pope. 
Garibaldi  was  placed  in  command  of  the  city’s 
volunteer  defenders.  Outnumbered  more  than 
three  to  one  by  an  enemy  supplied  with  camion 
and  munitions,  his  little  force  fought  valiantly 
and  well.  How  could  so  small  a garrison 
maintain  an  eighteen-mile  defense?  By  sheer 
weight  of  numbers  the  French  broke  through 
the  city  walls. 

The  assembly  debated  whether  to  surrender, 
die  fighting  from  street  to  street,  or  escape  to 
the  mountains.  Garibaldi  was  summoned 
from  his  post  on  the  Janiculum  Hill.  Just  as 
he  was,  his  face  streaked  with  sweat,  his  clothes 
stained  with  blood  and  dust,  his  sword  so  bent 
that  he  could  not  force  it  into  the  scabbard,  he 
galloped  across  the  Tiber  and  entered  the 


ITALY 


247 


hall.  Surrender?  What — surrender  Rome? 
Never,  never!  Let  government  and  army  flee 
to  the  mountains.  Wherever  they  went,  there 
Rome  would  be ! And  so  it  proved  though  for 
years  Rome  lived  in  the  hearts  of  a few  exiles. 

The  assembly  voted  to  surrender. 

In  the  great  square  before  St.  Peter’s  Gari- 
baldi hastily  called  his  troops  together  and  pro- 
posed that  they  march  with  him  into  the  wil- 
derness. 

“A  new  war  I offer  you,”  he  cried.  “I  can 
give  you  no  pay,  no  rest,  food  where  it  can  be 
found.  I can  give  you  hunger  and  thirst, 
forced  marches,  battle  and  death.  If  you  love 
Italy  in  your  hearts  and  not  with  your  lips 
only,  follow  me.” 

A mad  march  it  was,  the  wildest  and  most 
adventurous  of  many.  Pursued  by  flying  col- 
umns of  French  and  Austrian  and  Neapolitan 
soldiers  they  fled  through  bypaths  of  the  moun- 
tains, along  the  tracks  of  goatherds,  using  de- 
vices learned  in  South  American  wilds.  Gari- 
baldi gave  up  his  plan  to  reach  Venice  and 
doubled  back  across  Italy.  Every  day  there 
were  narrow  escapes  from  discovery.  At 
every  step  he  carried  his  life  in  his  hands.  Fi- 
nally he  sailed  in  a fishing  boat  from  a little 


248  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

Tuscan  village.  Standing  up  in  the  stern  he 
called  back  to  his  friends  on  shore,  “Viva 
ITtalia!” 

Asked  to  leave  France,  then  Tunis,  then 
Gibraltar,  he  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  New 
York  and  lived  there  for  a year  and  more, 
earning  his  living  making  candles.  Then 
off  to  sea  again — to  South  America,  to  China, 
and  so  to  England  and  back  to  Genoa.  With 
a little  money  saved  from  his  voyages  he 
bought  part  of  the  island  of  Caprera,  off  the 
coast  of  Sardinia.  He  lived  in  a stone  house 
built  with  his  own  hands.  He  tended  his  sheep 
and  goats,  tilled  the  fields,  and  taught  his  chil- 
dren to  read.  All  the  time  he  was  listening, 
listening  for  the  voice  of  Italy. 

Her  call  came  in  1859.  With  France  as 
her  ally  Cavour  began  another  war  with 
Austria.  Garibaldi  was  summoned  to  enlist 
and  lead  the  volunteers.  The  Austrians  were 
bewildered  by  the  speed  and  the  bold  rashness 
of  his  movements.  In  mountains  and  plains, 
night  and  day  he  kept  up  his  skirmishing. 
Pursued  he  slipped  through  the  fingers  of  the 
enemy.  Two  great  battles  the  allies  won. 
Suddenly  peace  was  made.  There  was  noth- 
ing more  that  Garibaldi  could  do. 


ITALY 


249 


Lombardy,  Tuscany  and  some  of  the  small 
duchies  joined  with  Piedmont,  calling  Victor 
Emmanuel  the  king  of  Italy.  But  much  of 
the  country  was  not  free.  Stretching  from 
sea  to  sea,  separating  south  from  north  were 
the  papal  states. 

The  next  year  an  opening  came.  A slight 
change  it  seemed  at  first.  The  king  of  the 
two  Sicilies  died  and  his  son,  a weak  and  ig- 
norant boy,  succeeded.  A revolt  began  in 
Palermo,  was  suppressed,  broke  out  again. 
At  his  little  island  Garibaldi  received  a secret 
message  to  come  at  once  to  head  the  patriots 
of  Sicily. 

Early  in  May  two  ships  sailed  from  Genoa 
in  the  night,  carrying  the  man  in  the  red  shirt 
and  the  famous  Thousand.  They  landed  on 
the  eleventh  and  took  Palermo,  fighting  be- 
hind barricades  from  street  to  street,  then 
Milazzo  and  Messina  in  one  victory  after  an- 
other. At  the  cry  “Italy  and  Victor  Em- 
manuel!” men  flocked  to  join  this  hero  till  his 
army  grew  from  one  thousand  to  twelve. 

Thirty  thousand  troops  opposing  them? 
On  they  swept,  crossed  to  the  mainland  and 
marched  three  hundred  miles  to  Naples  which 
the  boy -king  had  left  in  hurried  flight  the  day 


250  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

before.  As  snow  melts  before  the  summer 
sun  the  Bourbon  armies  melted  before  the 
very  name  of  Garibaldi. 

“The  bullets  we  aim  at  him,”  complained  the 
royal  soldiers,  “lodge  in  his  red  shirt  and  he 
shakes  them  out  at  bedtime.  He’s  in  league 
with  the  devil!” 

“A  saviour  sent  direct  from  heaven,”  the 
people  called  him. 

A temporary  government  was  organized 
and  Garibaldi  proclaimed  dictator.  These  un- 
usual powers  he  accepted  only  until  the  king 
of  Italy  could  arrive.  The  Sicilian  fleet  he 
presented  to  Victor  Emmanuel,  at  one  stroke 
increasing  the  navy  from  five  ships  to  ninety- 
five — a gift  from  the  cabin-boy. 

“Complete  victory  all  along  the  line,”  Gari- 
baldi telegraphed  after  his  final  battle  with  the 
Neapolitan  army,  a struggle  that  lasted  for 
twelve  hours.  The  king  of  Italy  marched 
southward  at  this  news,  scattered  the  pope's 
forces  and  took  possession  of  the  papal  states, 
except  the  city  of  Rome,  then  went  on  south 
to  the  frontier  of  Naples. 

At  the  crossroads  near  the  toll  cottage  a 
group  of  horsemen  waited.  A military  band 
played  the  royal  march  announcing  the  king’s 


ITALY 


251 


arrival.  Garibaldi  rode  forward  and  bowed 
low  exclaiming,  “I  hail  the  first  king  of 
Italy!” 

“How  are  you,  dear  Garibaldi?”  said  the 
king  and  shook  his  hand  warmly. 

Side  by  side,  followed  by  their  staffs  rode 
the  man  in  the  red  shirt  and  the  king  in  re- 
splendent uniform,  on  whom  had  been  be- 
stowed the  crown  of  the  two  Sicilies  with  nine 
million  new  subjects.  Trumpets  blowing, 
banners  waving  they  entered  Naples  together. 

“Rome,”  argued  Garibaldi,  “belongs  to 
Italy.  Neither  pope  nor  emperor  has  a right 
to  keep  me  out  of  it.” 

Ring  and  prime  minister  however  knew  that 
they  were  not  strong  enough  to  organize  the 
south  of  Italy  and  at  the  same  time  fight  the 
French  at  Rome.  Sick  at  heart  that  the  con- 
flict could  not  go  on  till  the  work  was  finished 
Garibaldi  determined  to  go  back  to  Caprera. 

They  offered  him  the  rank  of  marshal,  the 
cross  of  a famous  order,  a pension  of  half  a 
million  francs,  the  title  of  prince,  a dowry  for 
his  daughter,  honors  for  his  sons,  a castle,  an 
estate,  a steamer  for  himself.  As  he  had  re- 
fused rewards  and  honors  in  South  America 
he  refused  them  now.  What  cared  he  for 


252  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


wealth,  for  titles?  This  man  who  might  have 
been  a king  lived  one  degree  above  the 
peasants.  He  asked  only  to  win  Rome  for 
Italy. 

The  Thousand  crowded  around  him  to  say 
goodbye.  Many  of  them  were  sobbing. 
Garibaldi’s  voice  shook  as  he  said,  “Thanks! 
You  have  done  much  with  scant  means  in 
scant  time.  But  more  is  yet  to  do.  We  shall 
meet  on  the  road  to  Rome.  Farewell.” 

Poorer  than  when  he  left  his  island,  for  the 
equipment  of  the  Thousand  had  been  largely 
at  his  own  expense,  the  man  in  the  red  shirt  re- 
turned home.  His  secretary  anxiously  told 
him  of  the  state  of  his  pocket-book. 

“Don’t  be  worried.  We  have  plent}7  of 
wood  and  corn  which  we  will  sell.” 

As  months  went  by  and  nothing  was  done 
Garibaldi  grew  impatient.  Crying  “Rome  or 
death!”  he  gathered  a band  of  hot-tempered 
radicals  in  Sicily,  crossed  to  the  mainland  and 
started  north.  Italy  was  at  peace  with 
France.  She  could  not  countenance  such  an 
attack.  The  King’s  troops  met  Garibaldi 
near  Reggio  and  bade  him  withdraw.  Shots 
were  fired.  The  man  in  the  red  shirt  ■was 
wounded  and  taken  prisoner. 


ITALY 


253 


Another  war  with  Austria  gave  Venice 
back  to  Italy.  Still  impatient  Garibaldi  tried 
once  more,  but  his  rash  enterprise  was  de- 
feated by  the  French.  Not  until  September 
of  1870  did  the  king’s  army  enter  the  eternal 
city.  Garibaldi’s  dream  of  Rome  as  capital 
of  all  Italy,  the  dream  of  the  bo)r,  the  dream 
of  the  exile  riding  across  South  American 
plains,  the  dream  of  the  soldier  defending  his 
post  on  the  Janiculum  Hill  had  come  true. 

Speaking  one  day  of  the  deliverance  of 
Italy  Garibaldi  remarked,  “Some  men  attri- 
bute success  to  Victor  Emmanuel  and  some  to 
Cavour  and  some  to  the  great  Mazzini. 
There  are  even  those  who  give  me  the  credit. 
Rut  it  was  not  the  work  of  this  man  or  of  that. 
We  all  did  our  best.” 

It  has  become  the  custom,  a custom  that 
will  some  day  be  a beautiful  tradition,  that 
when  the  king  of  Italy  passes  the  statue  on 
the  Janiculum  Hill  he  takes  off  his  hat  in 
silent  tribute  to  the  man  in  the  red  shirt.  As 
Rome  was  to  Garibaldi  the  symbol  of  united 
Italy,  to  Italians  he  himself  is  now  this 
symbol.  For  he  loved  his  country  not  with 
his  lips  only,  but  in  his  heart. 


THE  STRANGER  IN  THE 
THREADBARE  CLOAK 


THE  TWELFTH  OF  OCTOBER 

Very  early  one  Friday  morning  in  the 
autumn  three  ships  sailed  close  to  a little 
island  in  the  West  Indies.  A boat  was 
launched.  A group  of  men  rowed  toward  the 
shore. 

With  banners  and  flags  they  landed,  flags 
with  a green  cross  on  one  side  and  on  the 
other  the  letters  F and  Y embroidered  in 
gold.  The  leader,  a tall  man  in  a scarlet  cloak 
with  flowing  white  hair  and  keen,  gray  eyes, 
drew  his  sword  and  held  it  high. 

“I  take,”  he  said  solemnly,  “I  take  posses- 
sion of  this  land  for  Castile.  It  shall  be 
called  San  Salvador.” 

Kneeling  he  kissed  the  earth  and  with  tears 
gave  thanks  to  God.  The  simple  ceremony 
was  over. 

Now  the  arrival  of  these  men  with  waving 

banners  had  not  been  unnoticed.  Out  from 

254 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


255 


the  distant  trees  the  natives  of  the  island  came 
running  to  see  the  strangers.  They  were 
dark-skinned  and  half  naked,  with  their 
bodies  painted  or  greased.  They  were 
amazed  at  these  intruders  whose  faces  were  so 
white,  who  wore  such  curious  clothes  covering 
all  their  bodies  except  hands  and  faces. 

As  the  newcomers  walked  a short  distance 
along  the  shore  the  natives  turned  and  ran, 
then  came  slowly  back.  They  were  reassured 
by  nods  and  smiles.  Coming  close  they 
touched  the  white  skin  as  if  to  make  cer- 
tain that  the  strangers  were  real  and  not  a 
vision. 

The  leader  offered  presents — glass  beads, 
hawks’  bells,  red  caps.  The  dark-skinned 
islanders  in  return  gave  him  tame  parrots, 
some  cotton  yarn,  a few  small,  gold  ornaments. 
At  sight  of  these  the  eyes  of  the  captain 
gleamed.  Eagerly  he  motioned,  asking  by  a 
gesture  where  they  found  the  gold. 

In  the  south,  they  pointed. 

“Ah,”  said  the  leader  with  a sigh,  “this  is 
only  an  island  north  of  Japan.  It  has  beauti- 
ful trees  and  shrubs.  And  gold’s  near  by!” 

For  eighteen  years  this  white-haired  man, 
the  son  of  an  Italian  weaver,  had  been  dream- 


256  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


in g and  hoping  and  working  to  accomplish 
his  purpose.  And  now  he  was  here! 

Yet  things  were  not  just  as  he  had  expected. 
Where  were  the  riches  of  Cathay  and  India? 
where  the  great  cities  with  palaces  roofed  with 
gold  and  bridges  of  costly  stone,  and  crowded 
wharves  with  the  vessels  of  all  the  world  load- 
ing rich  spices  and  gold  and  pearls?  where  the 
kings  of  strange  eastern  lands?  These  fright- 
ened, child-like  red  men — who  were  they? 
Some  tribe  of  Indians  they  must  be. 

The  new  world  to  which  these  three  ships 
had  sailed  was  not  in  1492  the  world  of  the 
twentieth  century.  Its  only  people  were 
savages  who  lived  by  hunting  and  fishing,  who 
carried  on  a cruel  warfare  with  neighboring 
tribes,  who  journeyed  from  island  to  island  in 
rude  canoes  hollowed  out  of  logs. 

And  the  old  world  from  which  the  three 
ships  had  sailed  was  not  the  Europe  of  today. 
Its  people  were  living  at  the  end  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  just  rousing  to  discovery  of  new  lands. 
There  was  a fever  of  excitement  in  the  air. 
This  was  especially  true  in  the  town  where 
lived  the  clothweaver  and  his  sons.  Back  and 
forth  over  the  Mediterranean  sailed  the  ships 
of  the  merchants  of  Genoa,  bringing  from  the 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


257 


eastern  end  of  that  inland  sea  rich  cargoes  that 
had  been  carried  overland  by  caravan  from 
the  far  east. 

Beautiful  silks  and  embroidered  robes,  fine 
weapons,  spices  and  pepper  greatly  prized  for 
seasoning  the  plain,  coarse  food  of  that  day, 
these  the  boy  Columbus  saw  unloaded.  What 
stories  he  heard  from  the  sailors — of  pirates 
who  attacked  trading  ships  and  stole  their 
goods,  of  the  Turks  who  had  conquered  the 
lands  at  the  end  of  the  Mediterranean  and 
forbade  all  trade. 

The  sea  was  the  only  highroad  to  fame  and 
fortune.  With  business  ruined  by  the  Turks 
many  Genoese  sailors  and  mapmakers  went  to 
Portugal.  Her  mariners  were  at  that  time 
the  best  in  Europe.  They  had  discovered 
more  new  lands — islands  to  the  west,  sections 
of  the  African  coast  that  took  them  farther 
and  farther  south,  farther  as  they  hoped  on  the 
water  route  to  India.  With  the  other  Italians 
went  two  sons  of  this  poor  weaver. 

As  he  pored  over  his  maps  and  read  books 
about  geography,  books  that  you  can  see  now 
in  Spanish  libraries  with  his  notes  in  the  mar- 
gins, Christopher  Columbus  was  thinking  out 
his  great  scheme.  He  believed  that  the  earth 


258  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


was  round,  not  flat.  Estimating  its  size  as 
much  less  than  it  really  is,  he  argued  that  the 
shortest  way  to  the  east  was  to  sail  west.  He 
tried  to  prove  this  on  a map,  but  said,  “It 
shows  more  plainly  on  a sphere.” 

Such  a voyage  was  practical,  he  reasoned, 
for  there  were  islands  all  the  way  along — 
stepping  stones  to  India.  Off  the  coast  of 
Asia  Marco  Polo  said  there  were  seven  thou- 
sand islands.  Why  not  sail  west  and  reach 
the  east?  And  who  better  than  Columbus 
himself  could  captain  such  an  expedition? 
Not  many  men  of  that  day  were  so  well 
educated.  He  read  and  wrote  Latin  and 
Italian,  Spanish  and  Portuguese.  Maps  he 
made,  beautiful  and  accurate.  He  knew 
mathematics  and  astronomy  and  the  art  of 
navigation.  He  had  the  imagination  to  plan 
this  voyage  and  the  boldness  to  carry  it 
through.  He  had  one  other  quality — per- 
sistence, a bull-dog  hold-on-to-one-idea  that 
would  not  let  him  relinquish  it  though  years 
went  by  before  he  could  get  the  help  he 
needed. 

For  such  a voyage  he  must  have  stout  ships 
and  brave  crews.  Ships  cost  money.  Sailors 
must  be  paid  wages.  Where  secure  them? 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


259 


First  Columbus  asked  his  home  town. 
Genoa  was  busy  with  a war  and  would  do 
nothing. 

Then  he  went  to  the  king  of  Portugal.  He 
explained  his  scheme  and  pointed  out  that  a 
sea  route  to  India  would  secure  for  some 
country  the  rich  trade  with  the  far  east.  He 
asked  for  ships  and  sailors,  and  for  himself 
a large  share  of  whatever  wealth  might  be 
obtained  from  his  discovery  and  the  governor- 
ship of  the  lands  found.  The  Portuguese 
refused. 

Might  it  be  worth  while  to  test  out  this 
Italian’s  scheme?  The  king  sent  some  ships 
to  the  Cape  Yerde  islands  and  gave  his 
captains  secret  orders  to  sail  on  westward 
into  the  Atlantic  to  search  for  islands, 
stepping  stones  to  India.  Frightened  at  the 
great  waste  of  ocean  around  them  the  Portu- 
guese sailors  soon  turned  back  and  ridiculed 
the  plan.  Sick  at  heart  at  such  deceit 
Columbus  went  to  Spain. 

He  supported  himself  by  selling  maps  and 
books.  Ever  before  him  he  kept  his  purpose 
of  a voyage  westward.  Men  laughed  at  him 
as  a dreamer.  Children  poked  fun  at  him. 
He  went  about  so  ill-clad  that  he  was  called 


260  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


“the  stranger  in  the  threadbare  cloak.”  But 
the  scheme  had  gripped  him  and  would  not 
let  him  go.  It  was  the  passion  of  his  life — 
to  sail  west  and  reach  the  east,  to  get  great 
riches  from  its  trade,  to  govern  those  strange 
lands.  He  could  not  give  up. 

For  eight  years  Coumbus  talked  over  his 
great  scheme — talked  to  anybody  who  would 
give  him  a hearing,  to  wise  men  from  the  court 
and  university,  to  the  queen’s  advisers.  They 
listened  and  asked  many  questions.  Some 
laughed  at  his  notions  and  declared  him  a wild 
dreamer.  Some  touched  their  foreheads  to 
show  that  he  was  crazy.  Some  said,  “If  the 
earth  is  a sphere  there’s  no  answer  to  your 
argument  about  east  and  west.  Spain  would 
be  the  richest  country  in  the  world  if  she’ll 
only  fit  out  the  ships,  supply  the  sailors,  and 
send  you  on  this  great  voyage  of  discovery.” 
But  nothing  was  done. 

Planning  then  to  seek  help  in  France 
Columbus  went  down  to  the  south  of  Spain  to 
get  his  little  boy  who  since  the  mother’s  death 
had  lived  there  with  an  aunt.  Near  the  towm 
of  Palos  the  two  stopped  at  the  convent  of 
LaRabida.  The  father  asked  for  a crust  of 
bread  and  a cup  of  water  for  the  child.  The 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


261 


prior  noticed  the  white-haired  stranger  at  the 
gate,  shabby  but  with  a noble  air,  speaking 
Spanish  with  a foreign  accent.  He  invited 
Columbus  into  the  convent  and  talked  with 
him. 

Here  was  an  interested  listener.  He  asked 
many  questions  about  the  plans  for  this  voyage 
and  learned  that  though  discouraged  the 
stranger  still  believed  in  it.  The  good  prior 
proposed  writing  to  the  queen  whose  con- 
fessor he  had  been,  urging  her  to  undertake 
the  expenses  of  the  expedition.  Would 
Columbus  and  the  boy  wait  there  till  the  letter 
could  be  sent  and  an  answer  received?  Yes, 
they  would  wait. 

In  a fortnight  the  messenger  returned 
bringing  orders  for  the  prior  to  come  to  the 
queen  at  once.  Shortly  he  was  back,  with 
money  to  provide  a court  suit  for  Columbus 
and  a mule  for  the  journey.  His  friendship 
was  worth  more  than  that  of  all  the  wise  men 
of  Spain. 

The  queen  Isabella  resolved  to  send  Colum- 
bus on  this  voyage.  But  when  they  came  to 
talk  over  the  details  she  was  amazed,  as  had 
been  the  Portuguese,  to  learn  his  demands — 
the  governorship  of  all  lands  he  might  discover 


262  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


and  a share  of  their  riches  and  trade.  Eight 
years  of  poverty  and  waiting  had  not  been  long 
enough  to  change  his  mind. 

“No,”  said  the  queen,  “you  ask  too  much. 
We  refuse  all  help.” 

Sadly,  wearily  Columbus  turned  away.  He 
would  offer  to  France  the  discovery  of  a new 
route  to  India.  Surrender  his  plan?  Give 
up?  Never! 

Now  the  queen’s  treasurer  and  his  friends 
were  distressed  that  France  should  have  the 
glory  and  riches  resulting  from  this  voyage, 
all  because  Spain  would  not  risk  what  seemed 
a small  amount  of  money,  about  sixty  thousand 
dollars.  They  went  to  Isabella,  for  they’d  no- 
ticed that  she  was  much  more  interested  in  the 
plan  than  King  Ferdinand  was.  Again  they 
told  of  the  wonderful  riches  of  the  east,  of  the 
honor  and  wealth  that  would  come  to  Spain, 
and  urged  her  to  equip  the  expedition. 

“I  will  do  it,”  she  said  decisively.  “I  will 
get  the  money  from  my  own  kingdom  of  Cas- 
tile.” 

By  furious  riding  the  royal  messenger  over- 
took Columbus  jogging  along  on  his  mule  six 
miles  from  Granada. 

“Return  at  once.  The  queen  commands  it. 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


263 


She  and  the  king  agree  to  all  your  demands.” 

First  to  get  the  ships.  The  little  town  of 
Palos  had  offended  the  rulers  of  Spain.  As 
a punishment  it  was  ordered  to  furnish  Colum- 
bus two  ships  and  their  crews.  A third  vessel 
he  got  in  Palos. 

Next  the  sailors.  He  offered  the  wages  paid 
on  warships,  a sum  higher  than  other  captains 
gave.  He  promised  too  four  months’  pay  in 
advance.  But  nobody  wanted  to  go  with  him. 
Men  were  afraid  of  dangers  lurking  in  un- 
known seas.  They’d  never  see  their  homes 
again.  Prisoners  were  released  from  jail  if 
they  would  sail  with  Columbus.  Debts  were 
forgiven  if  the  debtors  would  join  his  expedi- 
tion. Finally  crews  of  ninety  were  secured. 

Half  an  hour  before  sunrise  on  the  morning 
of  the  third  of  August,  1492,  the  three  ships 
lifted  their  anchors,  spread  their  sails  and 
headed  out  to  sea  from  the  harbor  of  Palos. 
They  were  within  sight  of  the  friendly  convent 
of  LaRabida.  The  shore  was  lined  with  men 
and  women  weeping  and  wringing  their  hands, 
bemoaning  the  fate  of  the  doomed  sailors. 

Such  little  vessels  they  were.  The  flagship, 
the  Santa  Maria , was  just  over  sixty  feet  in 
length  and  twenty  wide;  a dull,  slow  sailer, 


264  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Columbus  complained,  not  suited  to  his  pur- 
pose. The  Nina  and  Pinta  were  even  smaller 
and  open  in  the  middle.  With  a good  wind 
they  might  make  twelve  miles  an  hour. 

West  to  the  Canary  islands  went  the  three 
ships,  stopped  to  mend  a leak,  repair  a rudder, 
and  change  sails.  Then  with  fresh  water  and 
supplies  of  food  and  wood,  on  the  sixth  of  Sep- 
tember they  started  westward  again  over 
wholly  unknown  waters.  The  hearts  of  those 
rugged  men  failed  them  as  land  disappeared 
from  view  and  they  wept  like  children. 

No  one  had  ever  gone  so  far  west  before. 
Therefore  the  ocean  must  be  filled  with  count- 
less dangers.  They  w’ere  superstitious  and 
feared  the  great  monsters  that  lived  in  the  Sea 
of  Darkness,  as  they  called  the  Atlantic.  Day 
after  day  the  wind  blew  from  the  east.  This 
hastened  their  voyage,  but  made  them  fret  over 
the  difficulty  of  sailing  home  again. 

The  behavior  of  the  compass  alarmed  them. 
As  they  went  on  it  pointed  not  west  of  north, 
but  exactly  north  and  finally  a bit  to  the  east 
of  north.  When  the  pilots  found  their  faith- 
ful guide  acting  so  queerly  they  cried  out,  “It’s 
bewitched!  It  plays  these  foul  tricks  to  pun- 
ish us  for  our  boldness.  All  the  laws  of  na- 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


265 


ture  are  changed  in  this  topsy-turvy  world!” 
For  some  days  the  ships  sailed  through  great 
masses  of  seaweed — weeds  as  thick  as  a man’s 
thumb  and  very  long.  Would  they  get  en- 
tangled so  they  could  not  get  out?  Were  these 
river  weeds  from  some  land  not  far  away? 
Why  not  stop  and  search  for  it? 

“No,”  said  Columbus  firmly.  “We  are 
sailing  to  the  coast  of  Asia.  Stop  perhaps  on 
the  return.  But  now  west,  west,  west!  Sail 
on,  sail  on!  Nothing  shall  delay  us.” 

Late  one  afternoon  the  lookouts  saw  what 
appeared  to  be  a coastline.  It  was  really 
heavy  banks  of  clouds.  In  the  morning  the 
mirage  was  gone. 

“The  place  is  enchanted!”  they  cried. 

Day  after  day  the  sun  rose  out  of  the  water. 
Night  after  night  it  set  again  in  the  ocean. 
Westward,  always  to  the  west  Columbus  set 
the  course.  His  men  despaired,  hoped,  de- 
spaired the  more.  They  urged  him  to  return. 
Among  themselves  they  suggested  pushing 
him  overboard.  But  how  could  they  sail  back 
to  Spain  without  him? 

“Impossible  to  start  back  now,”  he  said. 
“What  would  the  king  and  queen  say  if  we 
failed  to  go  just  a little  farther?  Land  must 


266  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


be  near.  It  must  be.  If  we  keep  on  we’ll 
reach  the  coast  of  Asia  and  that  will  make  us 
all  rich.” 

Hope  sprang  up  again  when  on  the  third  of 
October  they  saw  branches  floating  by, 
branches  that  bore  red  berries.  Four  days 
later  the  Nina  which  happened  to  be  in  the 
lead,  fired  a gun  and  ran  up  a flag — the  signal 
agreed  on  when  land  was  sighted.  Again  a 
mistake.  Flocks  of  birds  were  seen.  There 
were  stories  of  Portuguese  explorers  who  fol- 
lowed birds  and  found  land.  Some  of 
them  lighted  on  the  masts  and  sang.  Impos- 
sible for  such  tiny  creatures  to  venture  far,  the 
men  argued,  and  not  be  too  exhausted  to  sing. 

There  was  constant  watching  in  the  west. 
Every  sailor  was  anxious  to  win  the  prize 
offered  to  the  first  person  who  sighted  land. 
On  the  night  of  the  eleventh,  straining  his  eyes 
in  the  darkness  Columbus  saw  a light  moving 
up  and  down,  disappear,  come  into  view  again. 
Was  some  one  running  along  the  shore  with 
a torch? 

“Land  ho!”  the  lookout’s  voice  rang  out  at 
two  in  the  morning.  A gun  was  fired.  There 
it  lay  before  them,  vague  and  shadow}7,  but 
land,  undoubtedly  land!  To  avoid  running 


COLUMBUS  DAY  267 

ashore  in  the  night  time  the  sails  were  furled, 
the  prows  turned  to  the  east. 

Did  any  man  on  board  sleep  between  two 
o’clock  and  dawn?  What  would  day  show 
them — the  true  coast  of  Asia  with  great  cities 
and  untold  riches?  gold  enough  to  make  their 
fortunes  ? 

The  voyage  was  over.  The  dream  of  Co- 
lumbus was  an  accomplished  fact.  They  had 
found  the  same  kind  of  sea  they  were  used  to 
near  Europe.  The  Atlantic  was  as  calm  as 
the  Guadalquiver  at  Seville.  Not  one  strange 
event  had  occurred.  Portuguese  sailors  had 
more  than  once  made  longer  voyages  than 
thirty-six  days.  But  this  one  stood  out  from 
all  the  others  of  that  age:  Columbus  had  sailed 
straight  west  two  thousand  miles  farther  than 
any  ship  had  ever  gone  before.  To  the  world 
he  gave  new  continents. 

Morning  came.  The  Spaniards  saw  before 
them  a beautiful,  low  island.  With  banners 
flying  they  claimed  it  in  the  name  of  Castile. 

For  three  months  they  cruised  about  sailing 
along  the  coast  of  Cuba  and  Haiti.  This  the 
natives  called  Cibano. 

“Cipango!”  exclaimed  Columbus,  “Cipango! 
Marco  Polo’s  name  for  Japan!” 


268  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


They  traded  with  the  natives.  Always  they 
looked,  looked  for  gold.  On  Christmas  day 
the  Santa  Maria  ran  aground  on  a sandbank 
and  was  wrecked.  From  her  timbers  a little 
fort  was  built  on  the  north  coast  of  Haiti. 
Forty  men  were  left  to  hunt  for  gold  and 
spices. 

“I  shall  expect  you  to  have  two  thousand 
pounds  of  gold  by  the  time  I return,”  Colum- 
bus told  them. 

A stormy  voyage  they  had  back  to  Spain. 
The  two  little  ships  were  separated  and  met 
again  in  the  harbor  of  Palos.  So  fearful  was 
Columbus  that  none  of  them  would  be  saved, 
in  all  the  fury  of  the  tempest  he  wrote  out  the 
story  of  his  voyage — the  time  it  occupied,  the 
lands  and  people  he  had  seen,  his  danger  at 
that  moment.  He  addressed  it  to  the  king  and 
queen  of  Spain.  He  wrapped  it  in  a waxed 
cloth  and  placed  it  in  a small  barrel  which  he 
threw  overboard. 

A duplicate  copy  he  put  in  another  barrel 
on  the  deck  of  his  ship  so  that  it  would  float 
off  if  she  sank.  If  they  were  all  lost  at  sea 
perhaps  the  record  wrould  be  found.  He  did 
not  want  future  voyagers  to  imagine  they 


COLUMBUS  DAY  269 

had  come  to  some  mysterious  end  and  be  for- 
ever afraid  to  follow  in  their  track. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  March  Columbus  sailed 
into  Palos.  The  bells  were  set  ringing. 
Every  one  rejoiced  at  the  return  of  the  men 
whose  start  they  had  watched  with  cries  and 
lamentations.  What  a story  the  voyagers  had 
to  tell ! How  the  people  crowded  down  to  the 
wharf  to  gaze  wondering  at  the  Indians  and 
the  curious  products  of  far-away  lands! 

From  the  court  came  orders  for  Columbus 
to  come  at  once  to  Barcelona  and  report  on  his 
expedition.  Slowly  he  traveled  because  of 
the  crowds  of  people  who  thronged  about  him. 
At  the  hea*d  of  the  procession  were  six  red  men 
in  feathers  and  war  paint,  wearing  ornaments 
of  gold.  Then  came  forty  porters  each  carry- 
ing a parrot  in  a cage,  and  other  strange  birds 
with  brilliant  plumage.  There  were  men  with 
branches  of  trees  which  were  supposed  to  fur- 
nish spices. 

At  the  end  came  Christopher  Columbus  on 
horseback  and  many  Spanish  nobles  with  him, 
making  a gorgeous  cavalcade.  Thus  the 
stranger  in  the  threadbare  cloak  returned  to 
court.  He  was  no  longer  a poor  mapmaker 


270  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


urging  an  impossible  scheme  for  which  he  de- 
manded ships  and  men.  He  was  a great  dis- 
coverer who  had  brought  glory  and  honor  to 
Spain,  and  riches,  riches! 

Under  their  gilded  canopy  king  and  queen 
and  prince  stood  up  to  receive  Columbus,  a 
mark  of  special  respect  shown  only  to  royalty. 
They  motioned  for  him  to  be  seated  while  he 
told  the  story.  The  Indians,  the  trinkets  of 
gold,  the  pearl  oysters,  the  parrots  and 
branches  were  all  brought  into  the  court.  To 
each  in  turn  Columbus  pointed  as  he  described 
the  pleasing  climate  of  this  western  land,  the 
air  filled  with  fragrance,  the  beautiful  birds 
and  flowers,  the  great  wealth  he  thought  the 
natives  possessed,  only  a taste  of  the  riches  to 
come.  King  and  queen  and  all  the  court  fell 
on  their  knees  while  the  choir  in  the  royal 
chapel  chanted  the  Te  Deum. 

For  six  weeks  Columbus  stayed  in  Barce- 
lona. He  was  treated  like  one  of  the  royal 
family.  He  rode  with  the  king  and  prince. 
People  saluted  him  on  the  street.  Great 
nobles  of  Spain  paid  him  court.  Ferdinand 
gave  him  a coat  of  arms  which  made  him  too 
a noble.  He  was  the  greatest  man  in  Spain. 

Who  could  know  at  that  time  that  Cuba  was 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


271 


not  the  mainland,  but  an  island  ? that  gold  and 
silver  would  be  found  later  in  Mexico  and 
Peru?  that  the  crops  of  tobacco  and  cotton  and 
potatoes  which  Columbus  reckoned  of  little 
value,  would  give  the  world  greater  riches  than 
all  the  gold  Spain  would  ever  get  from  mines 
in  the  new  world?  Who  could  foresee  all  the 
results  of  this  voyage? 

“Easy  enough  to  find  a water  route  to 
India,”  said  a guest  at  the  cardinal’s  banquet 
given  in  honor  of  Columbus.  “All  one  has  to 
do  is  to  sail  far  enough  west.  If  you  hadn’t 
discovered  the  Indies  wouldn’t  some  one  else?” 
The  Italian’s  answer  was  a question.  “Can 
you  make  an  egg  stand  on  end?” 

Man  after  man  tried.  All  failed. 

“Easy  enough.”  Columbus  took  up  the 
egg,  crushed  one  end  a little,  and  made  it  stand 
alone.  “Perfectly  easy  when  some  one  else 
has  once  done  it,  senor!” 

Preparations  for  the  second  voyage  were  be- 
gun without  delay.  Not  three,  but  seventeen 
ships  were  provided.  But  the  story  of  this 
and  of  the  third  voyage,  when  the  mainland  of 
South  America  was  discovered,  and  of  the 
fourth  are  not  such  pleasant  reading.  Colum- 
bus found  the  Haiti  fort  in  ruins ; all  his  men 


272  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


had  been  killed  in  return  for  the  cruel  treat- 
ment they  gave  the  Indians. 

Discontent  broke  out  and  grave  sickness. 
Plots  were  hatched  against  the  governor.  The 
unceasing  search  for  gold  brought  small  re- 
sults. The  enemies  of  Columbus  reported  to 
the  court  that  the  colony  was  mismanaged. 
An  officer  was  sent  to  decide  between  him  and 
the  leader  of  the  rebellion.  With  no  chance  to 
tell  his  side  of  the  story  the  great  discoverer 
was  placed  in  chains  and  sent  back  to  Spain. 

By  Ferdinand’s  orders  the  chains  were  re- 
moved at  once.  Columbus  was  received  again 
at  court.  But  his  governorship  of  the  Indies 
was  ended.  The  king  made  promises  and  did 
nothing. 

The  health  of  Columbus  was  undermined  by 
hardships.  He  felt  that  he  was  neglected  and 
unjustly  deprived  of  his  rights.  In  the  house 
still  shown  to  visitors,  number  seven  in  the 
Street  of  Columbus  in  Valladolid,  the  great 
voyager  died.  Save  by  a few  close  friends  his 
illness  and  death  were  unnoted.  The  new 
world  was  not  even  named  for  him. 

Four  centuries  after  1492  the  country  which 
he  discovered  held  in  his  memory  a world  ex- 
position, the  greatest  ever  known.  Year  after 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


278 


year  on  this  twelfth  of  October  Spain  ob- 
serves a holiday.  Italy  keeps  it  and  flags  are 
hung  out  in  the  seaport  of  Genoa.  The 
United  States  celebrates  it,  honoring  a man 
not  born  here,  a man  who  never  even  heard 
of  such  a country.  Ten  nations  in  South 
America  observe  it,  though  their  very  names 
he  did  not  know. 

Three  continents  keep  this  holiday,  paying 
tribute  to  the  son  of  an  Italian  weaver,  a man 
who  had  faith  and  courage  and  perseverance. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  DARK 
LANTERN 


THE  FIFTH  OF  NOVEMBER 

Above  the  noise  of  the  town  sounded  the 
boys’  voices. 

Oh,  don’t  you  remember 
The  fifth  of  November, 

The  gunpowder  treason  and  plot? 

The  group  suddenly  turned  the  corner  of  a 
narrow,  crooked  street  near  the  old  walls  of 
York.  They  walked  briskly  along  half  sing- 
ing, half  chanting  their  old  rhyme: 

There  is  no  reason 
Why  the  gunpowder  treason 
Should  ever  be  forgot. 

“Remember  Guy!”  they  cried.  “Pray,  sir, 
remember  Guy!”  Two  or  three  of  them  held 
up  their  caps  for  pennies.  “Please  to  remem- 
ber the  bonfire!” 


274 


ENGLAND 


275 


“Guy?  Bonfire?”  questioned  the  American 
as  he  hunted  in  his  purse  for  sixpences. 
“Guy?  who  in  the  world  is  Guy?  And  why  a 
bonfire  on  so  mild  a November  day?” 

“You’re  from  the  States,  sir,  I’ll  wager,” 
said  one  of  the  lads.  “Don’t  you  know  about 
Guy — Guy  Fawkes?  Do  come  down  to  High 
Petergate  tonight  and  see  us  burn  him.  Near 
the  minster,  you  know.  We’ll  tell  you  the 
story  then.  And  thanks  for  the  money.  It’s 
just  what  we  needed  for  Guy’s  lantern.  Ho 
there,  wait  for  me!”  Off  he  ran  to  join  the 
others  down  the  lane. 

Don’t  you  remember 
The  fifth  of  November? 

Their  voices  sounded  more  faintly.  Then 
the  chant  stopped.  They  appealed  to  the  pass- 
ersby  to  remember  Guy.  Pennies  received, 
they  took  up  the  rhyme  again. 

This  is  the  day  that  God  did  prevent 
To  blow  up  his  king  and  parliament. 

By  eight  o’clock  that  evening  the  American 
was  on  hand  in  the  crowded  square  near  the 
old  minster.  What  a merry  mood  every  one 
was  in!  The  people  waiting  set  off  fire- 


276  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

works.  Some  of  them  sang,  the  same  old 
rhymes  the  boys  had  sung  earlier  in  the  day. 

Presently  the  procession  appeared.  Boys, 
boys,  more  boys!  They  were  shouting  and 
singing,  pointing  in  scorn  to  the  great  Guy 
who  was  carried  in  their  midst.  By  chance 
the  line  halted  in  front  of  the  very  spot  where 
the  American  was  standing  so  that  he  had  a 
good  look  at  Guy  and  the  children  marching 
with  him  on  a twentieth  century  fifth  of  No- 
vember. 

What  an  absurd  sight  Guy  Fawkes  was! 
In  America  he’d  be  called  a scarecrow  surely. 
He  was  lifesize,  made  of  straw  and  dressed  in 
nondescript,  old  clothes.  His  face  was  a 
comic  mask  with  a long,  red  nose.  On  his 
head  was  a paper  cap  wound  with  bright  rib- 
bons. In  one  hand  he  had  a bunch  of  matches, 
in  the  other  a dark  lantern.  Thus  he  was 
paraded  through  the  streets  of  York,  sitting 
in  state  in  a great  chair,  while  the  crowd 
shouted  and  jeered  and  the  boys,  their  arms 
full  of  firewood,  sang  again: 

The  fifth  of  November, 

Since  I can  remember, 

The  gunpowder  treason  and  plot. 


ENGLAND 


277 


The  enormous  pile  of  wood  in  the  square  was 
lighted.  The  flames  shot  up  crackling  and 
roaring.  With  shouts  of  glee  the  boys  carry- 
ing Guy’s  chair  pushed  their  way  up  and 
dumped  him  into  the  bonfire.  And  while  the 
effigy  burned  they  sang  and  danced  around  it. 

There  is  no  reason 

Why  the  gunpowder  treason 

Should  ever  be  forgot. 

Nor  will  it  as  long  as  the  fifth  of  November 
is  celebrated  by  English  schoolboys.  For 
more  than  three  hundred  years  this  has  been 
a holiday  in  England,  set  aside  by  Parliament 
in  1606  as  “a  holiday  forever  in  thankfulness  to 
God  for  our  deliverance.”  Every  British 
child  knows  the  exciting  story  of  Guy  F awkes 
and  the  gunpowder  plot.  Here  it  is  as  a group 
of  boys  in  York,  Guy’s  birthplace,  told  it  to  a 
visitor  from  the  States. 

When  James  I came  to  the  throne  Parlia- 
ment House  stood  by  the  Thames  River  at 
Westminster — of  course  not  the  stately  build- 
ings that  are  there  today.  At  the  south-west 
corner  was  a little  two-story  house  where  lived 
old  Master  Whynyard,  the  keeper  of  the  king’s 


278  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


wardrobe.  Most  of  the  time  he  was  away  at 
court,  so  he  agreed  to  rent  his  house  to  Thomas 
Percy. 

But  Percy  didn’t  think  up  this  plan.  It  was 
Catesby,  a Roman  Catholic  who  was  bitterly 
disappointed  when  James  I enforced  the 
strictest  laws  against  people  of  that  religion — 
laws  that  put  priests  to  death  for  celebrating 
mass  and  made  men  pay  heavy  fines  for  not 
going  to  the  Church  of  England  sendees. 

So  he  thought  out  a plan — the  most  des- 
perate, terrible  plan  in  all  history!  He’d  take 
vengeance  on  king  and  Parliament  who  were 
responsible,  he  thought,  for  these  cruel  laws. 
At  one  blow  he’d  destroy  them  all — King 
James  and  the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  lords  and 
bishops,  the  members  of  the  Commons,  the 
king’s  ministers.  When  they  were  all  pres- 
ent at  the  opening  of  Parliament  he’d  blow 
them  up  with  gunpowder! 

What  would  happen  then? 

With  the  government  all  in  confusion  the 
Catholics  would  rise  and  proclaim  a new  king 
in  England — Prince  Charles  or  else  his  sister 
Elizabeth.  And  this  child  would  rule  with 
Catholic  advisors.  They  would  have  all  their 


ENGLAND  279 

old  rights  again.  Their  religion  would  be  re- 
stored. 

Some  such  plan  Catesby  worked  out.  To 
four  good  friends  he  told  it.  They  kept  the 
secret  well.  They  met  at  night  in  Catesby’s 
house  in  Lambeth — just  across  the  Thames 
from  Westminster.  They  talked  over  their 
scheme  in  mysterious  whispers.  They  were 
bound  by  an  oath  not  to  speak  of  it. 

It  was  the  spring  of  1604  when  Percy  hired 
the  house.  Parliament  was  to  meet  the  follow- 
ing February.  It  was  none  too  soon  to  be 
making  their  plans.  Little  by  little  they  must 
purchase  what  they  needed.  But  they  must 
not  meet  too  often.  They  separated  and  spent 
the  summer  at  different  places  in  the  country. 

The  early  winter  found  them  back  again  in 
London.  In  December  they  began  living  in 
the  Westminster  house.  The  first  part  of  that 
month  they  set  to  work.  What  a task  they 
had  before  them — to  tunnel  through  from 
Whynyard’s  cellar  to  the  space  under  Parlia- 
ment House! 

The  wall  proved  to  be  twelve  feet  thick. 
Digging  and  toiling  in  the  dark  cellar  was  a 
dismal  job.  Only  two  could  work  at  a time 


280  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


in  the  narrow  space.  Moreover  they  were 
gentlemen  by  birth  and  education.  They  were 
wholly  unaccustomed  to  manual  labor.  At 
the  end  of  a fortnight  thejT  had  accomplished 
almost  nothing  at  all! 

Catesby  had  thought  of  everything.  He  had 
laid  in  a store  of  food  so  that  they  would  not 
arouse  suspicion  by  going  out  to  buy  pro- 
visions. He  had  provided  lanterns  and  can- 
dles and  tools — spades,  pickaxes,  augers,  mat- 
tocks. In  his  house  at  Lambeth  were  thirty- 
six  barrels  of  gunpowder,  ready  to  be  brought 
over  the  river  and  stored  in  the  cellar  till  the 
fatal  day  should  come. 

A few  more  men  Catesby  had  let  into  the 
plot  till  there  were  thirteen  in  all.  One  was 
Guido  Fawkes,  a Yorkshireman  he’d  met  in 
Holland,  a soldier  of  fortune  in  the  Spanish 
army.  “A  man  who  knows  his  work,”  Catesby 
described  him  to  the  others.  “I’ve  chosen  him 
to  prepare  the  mine.” 

Day  and  night  the  conspirators  labored. 
But  a wall  of  solid  masonry  was  not  easy  to 
mine.  The  stones  were  as  hard  and  unyield- 
ing as  iron.  In  many  places  the  mortar  was 
harder  than  the  stones.  LTnderground,  with 
only  dim  lanterns  to  guide  them  they  dug  on; 


ENGLAND  281 

with  hushed  speech,  with  such  a fearful  secret 
on  their  minds ! 

One  day  they  were  startled  at  hearing  voices 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall.  Catesby  fancied 
he  could  hear  people  moving  about. 

“Who  can  it  be?  I thought  only  great, 
empty  vaults  were  there.  Here,  Guido ! Run 
up  to  the  street  and  keep  your  eyes  and  ears 
open.  Bring  us  word  what  you  find.” 

The  tall,  dark  Fawkes  threw  down  his  pick- 
axe and  went  up  the  cellar  stairs.  With  a 
question  to  this  man  and  that  he  soon  learned 
about  the  building  next  door.  Under  Parlia- 
ment House  were  coal  cellars.  They  were 
rented  by  a Mr.  Skinner  in  King  street.  His 
men  were  taking  away  some  coal  that 
had  been  stored  there.  That  explained  the 
rumbling  noise  just  over  their  heads,  and  the 
voices. 

The  plotters  whispered,  “If  we  could  only 
get  possession  of  Skinner’s  coal  cellars ! Then 
we  needn’t  tunnel  through  this  endless  wall. 
We  could  easily  be  ready  by  February.” 

At  last  Percy  hit  upon  a plan.  Going  to 
Dame  Whynyard  he  told  her  his  wife  was  com- 
ing up  from  the  country.  There  wasn’t  half 
room  enough  for  all  her  packages  and  boxes. 


282  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Couldn’t  the  good  lady  help  him  out?  If  she 
could  hire  space  from  that  coal  merchant 
he’d  give  her  something  handsome  for  her 
trouble.  Dame  Whynyard  agreed  to  try. 
For  seven  pounds,  a year’s  rent,  the  conspira- 
tors secured  the  cellar. 

A few  at  a time,  at  dead  of  night  the  barrels 
of  gunpowder  were  brought  across  the  river 
and  stored  in  Skinner’s  space.  Large  stones 
and  bars  of  iron  were  thrown  in  to  add  to  the 
effects  of  the  explosion.  Then  the  whole  mass 
was  carefully  covered  up  with  coal  and  fagots 
of  wood. 

Prowling  about  Westminster  Guy  Fawkes 
picked  up  the  news  that  King  J ames  had  post- 
poned the  meeting  of  Parliament  till  the  au- 
tumn. The  day  was  set  for  the  third  of  Octo- 
ber. Once  more  the  plotters  separated  and 
went  off  to  the  country  for  the  summer  months. 

Again  the  opening  of  Parliament  was  put 
off  till  the  fifth  of  November.  The  conspira- 
tors’ plans  were  all  completed.  Catesby  had 
bought  a ship  which  was  anchored  in  the 
Thames  ready  to  sail,  so  after  the  firing  of  the 
mine  Guy  Fawkes  could  escape  to  Flanders. 
He  had  supplies  of  arms  and  relays  of  horses 


ENGLAND  283 

so  that  his  friends  could  ride  through  the  coun- 
try to  rouse  the  Catholics. 

When  the  group  met  there  was  only  one 
matter  to  be  discussed.  What  should  they  do 
about  their  Catholic  friends  who  were  members 
of  Parliament?  Must  they  he  blown  up  with 
the  rest?  Why  not  save  their  lives?  Why 
not  tell  them  to  stay  at  home  on  the  fifth  of 
November? 

“No,  no,”  protested  Robert  Catesby,  “that’s 
risking  too  much.  For  the  success  of  the  plot, 
for  the  good  of  the  Church  they  must  be  sacri- 
ficed.” 

“Yes.  Our  private  feelings  must  be  sacri- 
ficed for  the  general  good.” 

“But  think ! What  a terrible  waste  of  life !” 
said  Tresham. 

“What  matter  if  a few  perish,  if  only  our 
religion  is  restored?  Rather  than  that  our 
project  should  not  succeed,”  cried  Catesby, 
“if  they  were  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own  son  I’d 
still  say,  they  must  be  blown  up !” 

This  decided  word  ended  the  discussion. 
But  Francis  Tresham  could  not  forget  that  his 
sister’s  husband  was  a member  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  How  could  he  keep  silence  and  let  his 


284  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


brother-in-law  walk  into  such  a trap?  Many 
an  Englishwoman  would  grieve  on  the  fifth 
of  November.  But  of  his  sister’s  sorrow 
Tresham  could  not  think  calmly.  Somehow 
Lord  Mounteagle  must  be  warned. 

Now  the  books  of  history  do  not  agree  about 
Tresham.  Some  say  he  kept  the  secret  to  the 
end  and  did  nothing  whatever  to  betray  it. 
Some  say  he  loved  Mounteagle  and  was  de- 
termined to  save  his  life.  And  still  others  de- 
clare that  he  was  sick  of  the  gunpowder  plot 
and  of  his  guilty  part  in  it ; that  he  was  ready 
to  do  anything  in  his  power  to  make  it  fail;  and 
that  the  best  way  to  save  all  those  lives  and  his 
fellow-conspirators  as  well  was  to  notify  some 
member  of  Parliament  of  the  danger. 

On  the  twenty-sixth  of  October  Lord 
Mounteagle  was  dining  at  his  country  home 
at  Hoxton.  A servant  came  in  with  a letter. 

“What  is  this?” 

“A  stranger  left  it,”  was  all  the  servant 
could  tell. 

Lord  Mounteagle  broke  the  seal  and  un- 
folded the  single  sheet  of  paper.  Strange — 
there  was  no  signature.  There  were  no  capi- 
tals, no  punctuation.  It  seemed  to  be  all  one 
sentence. 


ENGLAND 


285 


Was  this  a joke?  Was  some  friend  teas- 
ing him  with  a note  written  in  a disguised 
hand? 

“My  lord,”  he  read,  “out  of  the  love  I bear  to 
some  of  your  friends  I have  a care  for  your  preser- 
vation therefore  I would  advise  you  as  you  tender 
your  life  to  devise  some  excuse  to  shift  of  your 
attendance  at  this  Parliament  for  God  and  man 
hath  concurred  to  punish  the  wickedness  of  this  time 
and  think  not  lightly  of  this  advertisement  but  re- 
tire yourself  into  your  country  where  you  may 
expect  the  event  in  safety  for  though  there  be  no 
appearance  of  any  stir  yet  I say  they  shall  receive 
a terrible  blow  this  Parliament  and  yet  they  shall 
not  see  who  hurts  them.” 

Lord  Mounteagle  read  the  letter  through 
twice.  Then  he  left  the  table  and  rode  at  once 
to  Whitehall.  At  the  palace  he  showed  the 
warning  message  to  the  king’s  minister. 

“I’m  not  greatly  surprised,”  said  Cecil. 
“I’ve  been  hearing  rumors  of  a rising  among 
the  Catholics.  Let  us  send  for  the  Lord 
Chamberlain.”  Suddenly  he  turned  to  his 
caller.  “You  bring  me  this,  Mounteagle,  youto 
a Catholic?” 

“I  am  a loyal  Englishman  first,  sir.” 


286  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


When  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  came  the  three 
talked  earnestly  together. 

“The  fifth  of  November — that  gives  us 
plenty  of  time.  Delay  till  as  near  the  date  set 
as  possible.  Don’t  frighten  the  conspirators 
away.  Let  us  catch  them  red-handed!” 

“Yes,”  agreed  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  “If 
we  let  them  proceed  to  the  last  point  it  will  add 
to  the  value  of  the  discovery.” 

All  the  public  arrangements  for  the  opening 
of  Parliament  went  on.  Ministers  of  the 
crown  too  could  keep  a secret.  They  made 
not  a move  that  would  let  men  suspect  a plot, 
a grave  danger  threatening  king  and  nation. 
But  certain  phrases  in  the  anonymous  letter  to 
Lord  Mounteagle  set  them  thinking.  A ter- 
rible blow — should  not  see  who  hurts  them. 
Terrible — could  it  be  gunpowder? 

On  the  third  of  November  James  I came  up 
to  London  from  a hunting  trip.  Cecil  showed 
him  the  letter.  Did  they  tell  him  their  suspi- 
cions? Or  did  the  king  justly  claim  after- 
wards that  it  was  he  who  guessed  the  meaning 
of  that  warning  message  ? At  any  rate  orders 
were  given  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain  to  search 
thoroughly  the  cellars  under  Parliament 
House. 


ENGLAND 


287 


Mounteagle  and  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  went  to 
Westminster  the  next  afternoon.  Pretending 
to  be  searching  for  some  goods  of  the  king’s 
left  in  Whynyard’s  keeping,  they  knocked  at 
the  cellar  entrance.  Guy  Fawkes  opened  the 
door.  The  Lord  Chamberlain  glanced  in,  saw 
the  piles  of  fagots  and  asked  to  whom  they  be- 
longed. 

“To  Mr.  Percy  whose  servant  I am.” 

“Well,  your  master  has  laid  in  a good  sup- 

Pty” 

That  was  all.  As  soon  as  the  two  gentle- 
men had  gone  Guy  Fawkes  set  off  at  once  to 
tell  the  conspirators  they  were  discovered. 
But  the  sanguine  Percy  would  not  be  alarmed. 
"When  night  came  he  walked  round  Westmin- 
ster with  his  servant  to  prove  to  him  that  all 
was  peaceful.  The  fuse  was  laid.  Fawkes 
had  only  to  fire  the  train  and  escape  as 
planned. 

But  at  two  in  the  morning  came  a party  of 
soldiers  commanded  byT  Sir  Thomas  Knevett, 
a magistrate  of  Westminster.  To  the  silent, 
dark  cellar  they  made  their  way.  On  the  stairs 
they  met  the  tall  figure  of  Fawkes,  lantern  in 
hand. 

“Surrender!  In  the  king’s  name!” 


288  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 

Fawkes  stared  at  them. 

“Seize  him!”  commanded  Sir  Thomas. 
“Now  search  him.” 

In  his  pockets  they  found  slow  matches  and 
pieces  of  touchwood. 

“Oh,”  cried  the  prisoner,  “if  you  had  but 
taken  me  inside ! I’d  have  blown  you  all  up — 
the  house,  myself,  and  all!” 

“Search  through  the  cellars,”  ordered  Sir 
Thomas. 

With  drawn  swords  his  men  cleared  away 
the  fagots  of  wood  and  found  the  thirty-six 
barrels  of  gunpowder  with  a fuse  ready  laid 
to  set  them  off. 

Bound  hand  and  foot  Guy  Fawkes  was  car- 
ried off  to  Whitehall  and  led  into  the  royal 
bedchamber.  There  he  was  questioned  by 
king  and  ministers. 

“How  could  you  have  the  heart  to  destroy 
so  many  innocent  people?”  asked  James. 

“Desperate  diseases  need  desperate  reme- 
dies,” was  the  answer. 

Frankly  Fawkes  told  the  details  of  the  gun- 
powder plot.  But  tell  the  names  of  the  con- 
spirators he  would  not ; no,  not  even  when  they 
took  him  to  the  Tower  and  day  after  day  by 


ENGLAND  289 

the  king’s  special  order,  tortured  him  to  make 
him  speak. 

By  noon  on  the  fifth  of  November  news  of 
the  discovery  in  the  cellar  of  Parliament 
House  was  all  over  London.  Catholics  and 
Protestants  were  aghast  at  this  plot  of  a dozen 
men,  which  had  come  so  near  succeeding. 

When  early  that  morning  the  conspirators 
learned  of  Guy’s  arrest  they  mounted  their 
horses  and  rode  at  top  speed  out  of  London. 
Cecil’s  order  to  close  the  gates  came  just  too 
late.  But  contrary  to  every  expectation  of  the 
plotters  the  government  found  loyal  friends 
on  all  sides.  Watchmen  told  by  what  road  a 
group  of  men  had  left  the  city.  Villagers 
along  the  highways  to  the  west  reported  a 
party  of  horsemen  riding  so  fast  that  two  of 
them  had  tossed  a-side  their  cloaks.  Soon  sol- 
diers and  sheriffs  were  hot  on  the  trail  of  the 
fugitives. 

“Once  people  know  of  the  plot,”  Catesby 
had  said  over  and  over,  “Catholics  everywhere 
will  rise  to  aid  us.  We’ll  soon  have  a big 
army.” 

At  each  turn  of  the  road  came  reinforce- 
ments not  for  them,  but  for  their  pursuers. 


290  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


An  ever  increasing  number  of  citizens,  Catho- 
lic and  Protestant  alike,  joined  the  officers  of 
the  king. 

Through  Warwickshire  and  Worcestershire 
rode  the  conspirators  heading  for  Wales. 
They  knew  that  they  were  closely  followed, 
that  escape  was  becoming  impossible.  At  a 
lonely  country  house  on  the  border  of  Stafford- 
shire they  stopped  to  rest. 

They  were  wet  through  in  a storm.  Their 
damp  powder  was  put  before  the  fire  to  dry. 
A hot  coal  fell  into  it  and  the  mass  blew  up. 
The  men’s  faces  were  scorched  and  blackened 
by  this  explosion.  Some  of  them  were  badly 
burned.  One  was  blinded. 

“It  is  God’s  judgment,”  they  cried,  “for  the 
deed  we  planned!” 

Soon  the  house  was  surrounded.  The  con- 
spirators refused  to  surrender.  In  the  desper- 
ate fight  that  followed  Catesby  and  three 
others  were  slain.  The  rest  were  taken 
prisoner  and  carried  down  to  London  for 
trial. 

The  hall  at  Westminster  was  crowded  when 
the  case  was  heard.  King  and  Prince  of 
Wales,  lords  and  bishops  and  members  of  the 


ENGLAND  291 

House  of  Commons,  all  the  intended  victims 
of  the  gunpowder  plot  were  present. 

“Guilty!”  was  the  announcement  of  the 
court,  heard  with  shouts  of  exultation  by  the 
crowds  of  people  outside  the  building. 

Catch  the  fellows  red-handed,  the  ministers 
had  planned,  and  make  them  an  example  to 
the  populace.  Through,  the  streets  of  London 
the  eight  conspirators  were  led  to  execution. 
From  the  great  crowds  came  not  a word  of 
sympathy,  only  cries  of  hatred  and  scorn. 

Some  in  St.  Paul’s  Churchyard  and  some  at 
Westminster  in  front  of  Parliament  House, 
the  plotters  were  hanged  and  quartered.  The 
bells  of  London  rang  and  bonfires  blazed  to 
show  the  people’s  thanksgiving  that  the  trai- 
tors had  failed  in  their  design. 

Catesby  schemed  out  the  gunpowder  plot 
and  was  the  real  leader.  But  his  name  is 
scarcely  known.  Always  Guy  Fawkes  has 
been  considered  its  most  important  actor. 
His  lantern  is  preserved  in  the  library  at 
Oxford.  And  in  the  lieutenant’s  room  at  the 
Tower  you  can  still  see  a marble  slab  with  an 
inscription  telling  of  Fawkes’  examination 
there  and  of  the  narrow  escape  of  the  rulers  of 


292  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


England.  For  all  these  years  it  is  Guy 
Fawkes  who  has  been  burned  in  effigy  on  the 
fifth  of  November.  And  at  the  opening  of 
each  session  of  Parliament  the  Yeomen  of  the 
Guard  march  through  the  vaults  in  search  of 
gunpowder. 


PEWTER  PLATES  AND  HEAPING 
PLATTERS 


THE  LAST  THURSDAY  IN  NOVEMBER 

Thanksgiving ! 

How  much  the  very  word  says!  Thanks- 
giving— you  can  feel  the  frosty  air  and  the 
cold  wind.  You  can  see  the  bare  trees  against 
the  gray  sky.  You  can  see  the  logs  blazing 
on  the  hearth.  You  can  hear  the  talk  of 
travelers  returning  home  for  the  day,  the  gay 
chatter  and  laughter  of  the  young  folks  going 
to  Grandfather’s  for  this  holiday. 

Thanksgiving — guests  coming  up  the  walk 
with  cheery  greetings.  There  are  the  smiling 
faces  of  cousins,  aunts  and  uncles,  full  of  grati- 
tude and  love.  Thanksgiving — the  one  word 
tells  it  all. 

Thanksgiving  Day!  Church  in  the  morn- 
ing, where  members  of  all  the  different  con- 
gregations meet  for  a union  service.  It  is 
the  one  day  of  the  year  when  they  do  this. 
Fitting  it  is  that  they  give  thanks,  most  fit- 
ting that  they  give  thanks  together. 

293 


294  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


After  church  comes  the  great  event  of  the 
day,  the  Thanksgiving  dinner.  Vary  as  its 
details  may  in  different  years,  in  different  sec- 
tions of  our  country,  it  has  always  these  fun- 
damentals— turkey,  cranberry  sauce,  and  to 
crown  the  feast,  the  golden  pumpkin  pie. 
Sniff,  sniff!  Didn’t  you  smell  them  early  this 
morning  during  the  half  hour  of  baking ; smell 
the  spices  and  the  pumpkin  and  that  special 
odor  of  flaky  piecrust?  Didn’t  you  get  the 
savor  of  the  turkey  when  with  flushed  face 
Grandmother  herself  opened  the  oven  door  to 
baste  it  with  the  rich,  brown  juice?  Turkey 
and  cranberry  sauce  and  pumpkin  pie!  A 
full  table,  not  because  we  want  so  much  to 
eat,  but  to  symbolize  the  treasures  of  the  gen- 
erous earth!  But  turkey,  cranberry  sauce, 
pumpkin  pie — it’s  a feast  for  the  gods ! a feast 
for  Thanksgiving  Day! 

Though  this  November  holiday  is  peculiarly 
American,  the  custom  of  celebrating  the  end 
of  the  harvest  is  not  new.  In  England  it  was 
a famous  holiday  as  far  back  as  Alfred  the 
Great’s  time.  And  before  there  was  an  Eng- 
land the  Romans  had  a harvest  festival  in 
honor  of  Ceres,  a festival  as  old  as  the  reign 
of  Romulus.  And  before  them  the  Greek 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  295 


women  of  Athens  went  each  November  in  a 
gaily  bedecked  procession  to  the  temple  of 
Demeter  to  give  her  thanks  for  the  bountiful 
harvest  with  which  she  had  blessed  the  land. 
And  before  Greece  the  Jewish  people  had  a 
similar  festival  at  Jerusalem,  called  the  feast 
of  tabernacles.  You  can  read  of  it  in  Plu- 
tarch, in  Nehemiah  and  Judges,  and  in  the 
still  older  book  of  Exodus  where  Moses  gives 
directions  for  its  observance. 

But  these  celebrations  of  the  end  of  harvest 
lacked  something  of  our  American  Thanks- 
giving. A full  three  centuries  old  is  this  holi- 
day. It  was  in  December  of  1621  that  Gov- 
ernor Bradford  announced  that  first  day  of 
rejoicing  and  thanksgiving  in  the  little  colony 
of  Plymouth, 

Not  quite  a year  had  passed  since  the  May- 
flower anchored  in  the  harbor  of  that  rocky 
coast.  What  a year  it  had  been — a year 
of  hardships  in  a new  land,  a year  of  hunger 
and  cold,  of  fear  and  constant  sickness!  The 
supply  of  food  grew  less  and  less.  At  one 
time  all  but  seven  persons  in  the  colony  were 
ill.  For  the  sick  there  was  not  the  right  kind 
of  food.  Week  by  week  Pilgrims  had  died 
till  six  and  forty  graves  were  dug  on  the  bluff 


296  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


overlooking  the  bay;  dug  there  and  left  level 
with  the  ground  around,  without  any  mound 
of  earth,  without  marking  stones,  lest  the 
savage  red  men  learn  how  few  the  colonists 
were  in  numbers. 

But  with  the  spring  even  the  disheartened 
among  the  Pilgrims  took  heart  once  more. 
Go  back  to  England,  three  thousand  miles 
away?  Never!  Here  they  could  worship 
God  in  their  own  way.  Here  they  were  free 
men. 

With  stout  hearts,  with  steadfast  faith  the 
fifty  colonists  began  to  sow  their  seed. 
Twenty  acres  of  corn  they  put  in,  six  of  barley 
and  six  of  peas.  Without  ceasing  they  cared 
for  these  fields.  They  watched  the  growth  of 
their  crops  anxiously.  Well  they  knew  that 
their  lives  depended  on  a full  harvest. 

Spring  and  summer  days  flew  by.  The  land 
was  blessed  with  showers  and  sunshine.  Au- 
tumn came  and  dressed  the  woods  in  gorgeous 
colors — gold  and  crimson  and  brown.  Their 
crops  stood  ready  for  the  gathering.  They 
reaped  the  fruit  of  their  labors  and  housed  it 
carefully  for  the  winter. 

In  December  Governor  Bradford  looked 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  297 


abroad  on  the  little  colony.  Seven  houses  he 
counted,  and  four  for  community  use.  He 
gazed  over  the  empty  fields — the  twenty  acres 
whose  golden  shocks  of  corn  had  stood  so  close 
together,  yielding  a harvest  such  as  old  Eng- 
land never  knew;  the  barley  too  had  been  a 
successful  crop ; but  the  peas  had  been  planted 
too  late  and  though  they  came  up  and  bloomed, 
the  hot  summer  sun  withered  the  vines  and 
parched  them  in  the  blossom. 

“Yes,”  said  the  governor  to  himself,  “after 
the  ‘starving  time’  we’ve  lived  through  there’s 
ample  food  on  hand  now  for  all  of  us. 
There’s  a peck  of  meal  a week  for  each  person, 
and  since  the  harvest  there’s  the  same  amount 
of  Indian  corn.  We  can  face  the  winter  and 
the  future  with  lighter  hearts.  There’ll  be 
no  second  ‘starving  time’!” 

If  a man  counted  only  hardships,  Brad- 
ford’s thought  went  on,  this  first  year  in  Ply- 
mouth had  a goodly  number.  If  he  counted 
only  blessings  there  were  many,  many.  How 
could  he  best  bring  this  truth  home  to  his 
people? 

“We  have  fasted  together,”  he  said  in  sug- 
gesting his  plan.  “Now  let  us  feast  together. 


298  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Let  us  have  a special  day  to  give  thanks  for  all 
the  goodness  of  God.  He  has  remembered 
us.  We  will  remember  Him.” 

The  date  was  set  for  the  thirteenth  of  the 
month. 

“Let  us  invite  our  friends,  the  chief  Massa- 
soit  and  some  of  his  braves,”  suggested  Elder 
Brewster. 

A runner  went  to  Mount  Hope  to  take  the 
invitation  to  the  Indians.  Four  men  were 
sent  fowling  and  such  good  fortune  attended 
their  shooting  that  in  one  day  they  got  wild 
turkeys,  partridges  and  wood  pigeons — 
enough  to  last  the  whole  colony  almost  a 
week. 

As  soon  as  the  plan  for  the  feast  day  was 
announced  the  women  set  to  work.  Indeed 
it  was  a big  task  for  the  five  of  them,  with  a 
few  young  girls  to  help.  There  were  pump- 
kin pies  to  be  made  and  baked;  turkeys  to  be 
plucked  and  dressed  and  stuffed  with  beech- 
nuts; fish  from  the  bay  to  be  cleaned  and 
broiled ; barleybread  and  cornbread  to  be 
made;  and  many  another  good  thing  to  be 
prepared.  Busy,  busy  were  the  women  and 
girls  of  Plymouth  for  days  beforehand. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth, 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  299 

shortly  after  Captain  Standish  had  fired  off 
the  sunrise  gun,  there  came  a great  shout  from 
the  woods.  Another  shout,  a shriek  and  a 
wild  whoop!  Through  the  trees  came  a long 
line  of  Indians — the  chief  Massasoit  and 
ninety  of  his  braves.  In  their  best  dress  they 
came,  with  flourish  of  tomahawks  in  honor  of 
this  feast  day  of  their  friends,  the  pale  faces. 
Some  of  them  had  wide  bands  of  black  paint 
on  their  faces.  Some  had  feathers  stuck  in 
their  long,  straight,  black  hair.  Some  wore 
the  furry  coat  of  a wildcat  hanging  from  their 
shoulders.  Some  wore  deerskins. 

With  the  governor  Captain  Standish  went 
to  meet  them.  Were  they  surprised  at  the 
number?  Were  they  dismayed  at  thought  of 
the  food  necessary  for  ninety  visitors? 
Courteously  they  received  their  Indian  guests. 

Presently  the  beat  of  a drum  announced 
morning  prayers.  Every  day  began  with  this 
brief  service.  How  much  more  important  on 
this  feast  day!  The  red  men  looked  on 
quietly,  listening  reverently  while  the  stern, 
grave  Pilgrims  prayed  to  the  Great  Spirit. 

Then  came  breakfast — clam  chowder  with 
biscuit,  hasty  pudding  served  with  butter  and 
treacle;  for  milk  they  had  none  in  Plymouth. 


300  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


At  the  north  end  of  the  little  village  colonists 
and  visitors  assembled. 

“Military  exercises  under  the  direction  of 
Captain  Miles  Standish,”  announced  the 
governor. 

The  trumpets  sounded.  From  the  fort 
came  the  roll  of  drums.  Down  the  hill  in 
soldierly  array  marched  the  regiment  of  Ply- 
mouth— a regiment  of  twenty  men.  Over 
them  floated  the  flag  of  England. 

March  and  countermarch,  wheel  and  turn, 
right  about  face — through  all  the  maneuvers 
Standish  put  his  men  that  morning.  Fre- 
quently they  discharged  their  muskets.  Once 
in  answer  there  came  a great  roar  from  the 
four  cannon  of  the  fort. 

The  red  men  danced,  acted  out  stories  and 
played  games  with  the  children.  The  colo- 
nists sang  their  songs.  A target  was  set  up 
and  the  soldiers  fired  at  it.  The  Indians 
standing  in  closer  shot  at  it  with  their  bows 
and  arrows.  There  was  a friendly  contest  to 
see  which  side  would  make  the  larger  score. 

Meanwhile  Mistress  Brewster  and  Mistress 
Winslow  with  the  three  other  women  of  the 
colony  were  hard  at  work.  Remember  Aller- 
ton  and  Mary  Chilton,  Priscilla  and  Desire 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  301 


and  the  younger  girls  helped  as  they  could. 
Back  and  forth  to  the  kitchen  they  went  count- 
less times,  bearing  pewter  plates  and  heaping 
platters  of  good  things  to  eat.  At  last  dinner 
was  announced. 

What  a meal  that  was,  served  at  the  long 
tables  under  the  leafless  trees!  There  were 
clams  and  scallops;  wild  turkey  with  Priscilla 
Mullins’  famous  dressing  of  beechnuts ; dump- 
lings made  of  barley  flour;  pigeon  pasty; 
bowls  of  salad  wreathed  with  autumn  leaves; 
baskets  of  wild  grapes  and  plums;  and  the 
crown  of  every  Thanksgiving  dinner,  the 
golden  pumpkin  pie. 

Did  the  Indians  surmise  that  their  presence 
made  extra  work  for  the  women  of  Plymouth? 
Did  they  wish  to  bring  something  of  their  own 
for  the  feast?  The  brother  of  Massasoit  of- 
fered to  lead  a hunting  party  into  the  woods 
to  look  for  deer.  His  braves  knew  well  their 
favorite  haunts.  It  would  not  take  long. 

“Yes,  go,”  said  Governor  Bradford. 

The  next  morning  back  came  the  red  men 
with,  five  deer.  One  they  roasted  whole. 
The  others  were  cut  up  into  steaks  and  smaller 
pieces  for  venison  pie. 

For  two  days  more  the  feasting  went  on. 


302  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Between  English  colonists  and  fierce  Indians 
there  was  hearty  fellowship  and  good  will. 
Peace  had  been  established  on  a firm  founda- 
tion. Without  such  a peace  the  Pilgrims 
would  never  have  won  a footing  on  that  bleak 
coast.  Without  it  Plymouth  could  never 
have  lived  through  that  first  year.  It  was 
these  friendly  savages  who  told  the  newcomers 
how  to  use  shad  to  fertilize  their  fields,  when 
to  plant  corn — “as  soon  as  the  oak  leaves  are 
as  big  as  a mouse’s  ear — ” and  where  to  find 
wild  fruits  and  berries.  Much  was  owing  to 
the  red  men.  Thrice  welcome  to  the  colony’s 
feast  day! 

This  is  the  story  of  that  first  Thanksgiving 
in  far-away  1621.  Since  then  in  Plymouth, 
in  the  Massachusetts  colony  there  have  been 
many  such  festivals.  Sometimes  there  were 
two  a year,  if  some  special  event  made  the 
leaders  appoint  a day  of  thanks  and  rejoicing. 
When  hard  times  came  and  the  outlook  was 
disheartening  they  skipped  a year.  But  from 
one  generation  to  another  in  Yew  England 
Thanksgiving  has  gone  on  and  on. 

The  rest  of  the  country  was  slow  to  adopt 
this  beautiful  custom.  Here  and  there  a 
governor  proclaimed  a day  of  thanksgiving 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  303 

for  his  state.  But  it  was  not  permanent. 
There  was  no  general  celebration. 

Soon  after  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury a New  England  woman  went  from  Bos- 
ton to  Philadelphia,  to  become  editor  of  the 
famous  magazine  called  Godey’s  Lady’s  Book. 
She  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  fact  that  in 
Pennsylvania,  and  in  other  states  as  well, 
Thanksgiving  Day  was  not  observed.  To  her 
mind  this  was  a state  of  affairs  to  be  altered. 
At  once  she  set  to  work. 

She  wrote  to  the  governor  of  each  state  ask- 
ing him  to  appoint  a day  of  thanksgiving  and 
suggesting  the  last  Thursday  in  November. 
Some  governors  met  her  request.  Some  ig- 
nored it.  The  next  year  she  wrote  again,  and 
the  next  and  the  next.  By  1859  Thanksgiv- 
ing Day  was  observed  in  all  but  two  states. 

Then  came  the  civil  war.  There  was  no 
time  for  a celebration  when  every  one  was  oc- 
cupied in  work  for  the  soldiers.  No  one  had 
heart  for  a festival  when  hearts  were  saddened 
everywhere.  But  with  the  coming  of  peace 
President  Johnson  proclaimed  a day  of 
thanksgiving  for  the  whole  nation,  in  Novem- 
ber of  1865.  State  after  state  followed. 

Since  that  year  America  has  kept  this  holi- 


304  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


day,  proclaimed  anew  with  each  November  by 
governors  and  president.  The  reasons  for 
giving  thanks  in  1621  have  remained  to  this 
day,  with  many  others  added.  It  is  a day 
when  the  people  recognize  all  the  blessings  of 
God  and  His  goodness  to  our  land,  a day  to 
give  thanks  for  bountiful,  golden  harvests,  for 
peace  and  prosperity,  for  the  general  welfare, 
a day  for  prayer  and  rejoicing. 

Turkey  and  cranberry  sauce  and  pmnpkin 
pie! 

What  a tantalizing  odor  when  the  kitchen 
door  is  opened  for  a moment! 

There  are  voices  from  the  gate  and  steps 
on  the  frosty  path.  More  guests  are  coming. 
For  this  is  Thanksgiving  Day! 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  KING 


THE  TWENTY-FIFTH  OF  DECEMBER 

Nearly  two  thousand  years  ago  when  Rome 
was  mistress  of  the  world  the  emperor  Caesar 
Augustus  ordered  that  every  subject  in  his 
dominions  should  pay  a tax.  Each  man 
must  pay  this  not  in  the  town  where  he  hap- 
pened to  be  living,  but  in  the  place  from  which 
his  family  had  come.  All  through  the  great 
Roman  empire  people  were  traveling  to  their 
old  homes. 

From  the  land  of  Galilee  a carpenter  who 
lived  in  Nazareth  journeyed  south  sixty  miles 
and  more  to  a village  cailed  Bethlehem,  the 
city  of  David.  For  this  man  who  was  named 
Joseph  and  his  wife  Mary  were  descendants 
of  the  royal  family  of  David,  greatest  of  the 
Jewish  kings. 

Though  their  ancestor  was  so  important  a 
person  Joseph  and  Mary  were  not  rich.  They 
were  poor  and  humble  folk.  They  found  that 
many  others  had  come  to  Bethlehem  to  pay  the 

305 


306  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Roman  tax.  The  little  village  was  crowded. 
The  inn  had  more  guests  than  it  could  accom- 
modate. There  was  no  room  anywhere.  In 
a stable  the  couple  from  Nazareth  found  shel- 
ter. Perhaps  it  was  merely  a cave  hollowed 
out  of  the  soft  chalk  rock,  such  as  is  found  to 
this  day  in  that  land  and  used  for  the  horses 
and  camels  of  caravans. 

Some  months  before  an  angel  had  come  to 
Mary  to  give  her  a wonderful  message — that 
she  was  chosen  to  be  the  mother  of  Jesus,  the 
redeemer  for  whom  all  the  Jews  were  look- 
ing, the  one  who  should  save  the  people  from 
their  sins.  He  would  be  the  son  of  God.  He 
would  be  also  the  son  of  man.  He  would 
have  the  throne  of  David  and  of  his  kingdom 
there  should  be  no  end.  Awed  by  these  words, 
yet  very  happy  too,  Mary  had  bowed  her  head 
and  said  humbly,  “I  am  the  handmaid  of  the 
Lord.” 

And  now  it  was  time  for  all  that  the  angel 
had  said  to  come  true.  There  in  the  city  of 
David  a son  was  born  to  Mary.  She  wrapped 
him  in  swaddling  clothes,  the  linen  bands  that 
eastern  mothers  wound  round  and  round  the 
body  of  a little  baby.  Then  she  laid  him  in  a 
manger. 


CHRISTMAS 


307 


How  bright  her  eyes  must  have  been  as  she 
gazed  lovingly  upon  him  and  remembered  the 
angel’s  message ! Already  the  promise  seemed 
to  be  coming  true.  Here  they  were,  come  to 
pay  the  Roman  tax,  in  David’s  very  city.  A 
king  to  sit  on  a throne?  This  baby  had  no 
cradle  save  the  manger  of  cattle.  To  wear 
fine  clothes  embroidered  with  jewels?  This 
baby  had  only  swaddling  bands.  To  reign 
forever  in  a kingdom  without  end?  David 
had  ruled,  but  his  realm  had  been  divided,  then 
conquered.  This  baby  with  the  glorious  fu- 
ture had  no  courtiers  to  rejoice  at  his  birth. 

On  the  slopes  of  the  hills  about  Bethlehem 
were  flocks  of  sheep.  Night  and  day  the  shep- 
herds watched  them  just  as  long  ago  in  that 
very  place  David  had  watched  the  sheep  of  his 
father.  In  the  night  sky  came  a sudden 
brightness.  Around  the  men  shone  a glory 
that  was  like  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  An  an- 
gel came  down  to  them. 

“Fear  not,”  he  said  seeing  how  frightened 
they  were,  “I  bring  you  good  tidings,  news  of 
great  joy  for  you  and  for  all  the  people.  This 
night  the  Saviour  is  born  in  David’s  town  of 
Bethlehem.  This  is  how  you  may  know  him 
— he  is  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes.  And 


308  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


here  is  a second  sign — he  is  lying  in  a manger.” 

As  the  dazed  shepherds  looked  and  listened 
many  angels  joined  the  one  who  had  brought 
this  joyful  message. 

“Glory  to  God,”  the  men  heard  them  say, 
“glory  to  God  and  peace  on  earth  and  good 
will  to  all  mankind.” 

At  that  hour  the  priests  at  the  temple  of 
Janus  in  Rome  closed  the  gates  of  the  build- 
ing, the  great  gates  that  always  stood  open  in 
time  of  war  and  were  closed  at  the  coming  of 
peace.  For  the  second  time  in  history  there 
was  peace  throughout  the  Roman  Empire, 
peace  throughout  the  world  for  the  birthday 
of  this  baby. 

The  shepherds  stared  at  one  another. 
They  looked  up  at  the  angels  who  were  dis- 
appearing from  sight.  “Glory  to  God,” 
sounded  the  last  of  their  song  of  praise.  The 
bright  light  was  gone,  the  glory  that  had  shone 
around  them. 

“Come,  come,”  one  cried,  “let’s  go  to  Beth- 
lehem and  see  the  child  who  is  born  there.” 

“Yes,”  the  others  answered,  “let  us  go,  go 
at  once.” 

In  haste  they  ran  down  the  slope,  with  those 


CHRISTMAS 


309 


words  6f  praise  still  sounding  in  their  ears, 
and  through  the  streets  of  Bethlehem.  No 
use  to  ask  their  way,  no  use  to  inquire  at  the 
crowded  inn.  They  sought  out  a stable  as 
the  angel  had  directed.  And  there  they 
found  Mary  and  in  the  manger  the  baby  Jesus. 
The  shepherds  sang  a song  of  praise  and  glory 
to  God,  for  what  they  saw  and  heard  that 
night. 

Other  visitors  too  came  seeking  this  child, 
wise  men  from  the  east  who  had  seen  a 
strange,  new  star  and  followed  it,  in  order  to 
worship  the  newborn  king  of  the  Jews. 
Across  desert  lands,  over  plains  and  hilly 
country  the  star  had  guided  them.  But  when 
they  neared  Jerusalem  it  disappeared  in  the 
fog.  They  must  needs  ask  their  way. 

“Where,”  they  questioned,  “is  the  king 
whose  star  we  saw,  the  king  to  whom  we  would 
pay  homage?” 

The  chief  priests  and  Jewish  scribes  quoted 
from  the  prophecies  which  had  been  made 
more  than  seven  hundred  years  before  and 
answered,  “In  Bethlehem  of  Judea.” 

As  the  wise  men  turned  to  the  south  to 
journey  six  miles  further  to  the  city  of  David, 


310  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


the  star  again  went  before  them.  How  they 
rejoiced!  How  steadily  they  gazed  at  it  and 
followed  exactly  till  it  came  to  rest — not  over 
a palace  or  a beautiful  home,  but  over  a stable ! 
Could  this  be  the  right  place?  There  was  the 
star,  their  star  they  called  it  after  all  those 
days  of  its  guidance,  standing  still  now  and 
shining  brightly. 

Into  the  stable  went  the  wise  men  from  the 
east.  They  saw  Mary  and  the  baby  Jesus. 
They  knelt  down  and  worshiped  him.  Open- 
ing their  treasures  they  gave  him  rich  presents 
— frankincense  and  myrrh  and  gold. 

Almost  two  thousand  years  ago,  according 
to  this  legend,  Joseph  and  Mary  journeyed 
from  Nazareth  to  Bethlehem  and  took  shelter 
in  a stable.  Almost  two  thousand  years  ago 
Christ  was  born  in  David’s  city  as  the  prophets 
had  foretold.  All  these  years  His  birthday  has 
has  been  celebrated.  It  is  the  world’s  greatest 
holiday,  observed  in  more  countries,  dear  to 
more  peoples  than  any  other. 

In  the  account  of  the  birth  of  Jesus  in  the 
Bible  there’s  not  one  word  or  phrase  to  show 
what  time  of  year  it  was.  There’s  nothing  to 
indicate  the  month  or  season  even,  save  that  the 
shepherds  were  watching  their  flocks  all  night ; 


CHRISTMAS  311 

and  this  they  did  for  ten  months  or  more  in  that 
eastern  land. 

In  the  early  Christian  church  the  celebration 
of  Christ’s  birth  was  held  at  many  different 
dates — on  the  sixth  of  January,  near  the  end 
of  March,  in  April  or  May,  in  September  and 
October,  and  more  than  one  day  in  December. 
About  the  year  340  the  pope  fixed  upon  the 
twenty-fifth  of  December  and  that  date  has 
been  accepted  ever  since. 

But  December  holidays,  a time  of  mirth  and 
gladness  and  rejoicing  for  all  the  people,  were 
known  long  before  the  year  340  or  the  year  1. 
Like  others  of  our  festivals  the  Christmas 
celebration  was  partly  adapted  from  the  pa- 
gans— Romans,  Saxons,  Scandinavians.  It 
honored  the  mightiest  event  in  the  history  of 
Christendom,  but  it  was  overlaid  upon  heathen 
festivals. 

Many  people  kept  holidays  when  the  sun 
reached  its  southern  limit  and  wheeled  back  to- 
ward the  north  announcing  the  end  of  winter. 
The  Greeks  had  such  a festival  in  honor  of 
their  god  Bacchus,  giving  themselves  up  to 
songs  and  dances  and  revels.  The  ancient 
Romans  kept  this  festival  in  honor  of  Saturn, 
feasting  for  seven  days  that  often  ended  in 


312  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


rioting  and  disorder.  The  German  tribes 
kept  it  and  called  it  the  feast  of  the  twelve 
nights,  in  honor  of  the  victory  of  the  sungod 
and  the  south  wind  over  winter  and  the  storm- 
god,  destroyers  of  life. 

In  the  merriment  and  jollity  that  mark  our 
holidays  at  Christmas  survive  the  revels  of  the 
Greeks,  the  Saturnalia,  the  celebration  of  the 
twelve  nights.  The  Christmas  candles,  the 
lights  we  have  everywhere,  we  use  because  the 
Romans  gave  presents  of  wax  candles.  The 
Yule  log  that  is  brought  in  with  such  ceremony, 
welcomed  with  song  and  sport,  burned  on  our 
hearths  and  for  good  luck  a piece  kept  for  next 
year’s  lighting,  is  a remnant  of  -the  great  log 
which  the  Scandinavians  kindled  in  honor  of 
their  god  Thor.  Boxing  Day  in  England 
when  poor  people  go  the  rounds  with  a Christ- 
mas box  and  ask  for  money  is  another  survival. 
The  Romans  hung  up  earthen  boxes  with  a 
hole  for  slipping  in  gifts  of  money  for  the  rural 
festivals. 

These  old  pagan  celebrations  the  early 
church  adapted,  changing  from  the  birth  of  the 
sun  to  the  birth  of  the  Son.  This  was  merely 
giving  them  a new  name  but  keeping  the 
heathen  date  and  customs.  For  more  than  a 


CHRISTMAS 


313 


thousand  years  Christmas  was  a religious  cele- 
bration only.  Try  as  it  would  the  church 
could  not  make  the  day  popular.  Gradually 
it  transferred  to  the  twenty-fifth  of  December 
celebrations  that  had  belonged  to  Martinmas 
and  St.  Andrew’s  day  in  November,  to  the 
festival  of  St.  Nicholas  on  December  sixth,  and 
to  the  feast  of  the  wise  men  in  January.  Com- 
bining all  these  with  Christmas,  little  by  little 
the  day  became  popular.  It  became  the  great 
festival  of  the  year  for  children  and  the 
best  time  in  all  the  calendar  for  the  giving  of 
gifts. 

Who  was  St.  Nicholas  that  a change  in  his 
festival  should  change  Christmas?  Not  much 
is  known  of  him.  He  lived  in  Asia  Minor  in 
the  fourth  century.  Though  he  was  the  son  of 
rich  parents  he  would  not  accept  their  wealth 
for  himself,  but  used  it  for  the  poor.  He  was 
still  a young  man  when  he  was  elected  bishop. 
Old  pictures  show  him  dressed  in  embroidered 
red  robes  lined  with  soft,  white  fur,  with  cross 
and  jewelled  mitre  and  staff. 

In  many  countries  he  is  the  special  saint  of 
schoolboys.  No  other  saint  had  so  many 
churches,  chapels,  altars  dedicated  to  him  as 
had  Nicholas.  Before  the  Reformation  there 


314  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


were  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  churches 
in  England  named  for  him.  Many  boys  were 
christened  after  him.  The  name  was  as  com- 
mon as  Mary  among  girls.  What  is  your 
name?  asked  the  catechism.  N or  M,  was  the 
answer  printed,  these  initials  chosen  because 
Nicholas  and  Mary  were  the  commonest 
names  in  England. 

The  reason  for  this  is  told  in  the  legend  of 
three  schoolboys  who  were  murdered  by  a 
treacherous  innkeeper.  Their  bodies  he  cut 
up  and  salted  away  in  a pickling  tub.  Nich- 
olas made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  the  cask 
and  behold ! the  three  hoys  arose  alive  and  well. 
The  good  saint  gave  them  back  to  their  mother. 
The  wicked  landlord  was  stoned  to  death. 

Nor  was  Nicholas  the  patron  saint  of  boys 
exclusively.  In  his  parish  was  a nobleman 
who  had  three  daughters.  Once  he  had  been 
rich.  He  lost  his  wealth  and  was  so  poor  that 
he  could  not  give  them  any  dowry — the  sum  of 
money  a bride  brought  from  her  parents,  with 
which  the  young  couple  could  start  housekeep- 
ing. The  father  feared  he  must  send  his 
daughters  out  as  servants,  but  sorrow  made 
him  put  off  telling  them. 

At  last  the  story  came  to  the  ears  of  the  good 


CHRISTMAS 


315 


bishop.  A shame,  thought  he,  that  this  should 
happen  in  a Christian  country!  One  night 
when  the  daughters  slept  and  their  father 
watched  and  wept,  Nicholas  took  a handful  of 
gold  and  tied  it  up  in  a silken  purse.  How 
could  he  give  it  without  making  himself 
known?  While  he  stood  hesitating  the  moon 
shone  out  from  a bank  of  clouds  and  showed 
him  an  open  window.  In  through  the  case- 
ment he  tossed  the  gold.  At  the  father’s  feet 
it  fell.  Thus  the  first  daughter  had  her  dowry 
and  could  marry  the  man  she  loved. 

Soon  after  this  Nicholas  tossed  another 
purse  of  gold  pieces  in  at  the  poor  nobleman’s 
window.  The  second  daughter  was  provided 
for.  The  father’s  curiosity  was  aroused. 
Who  had  come  to  his  aid  so  generously?  He 
wanted  to  thank  his  unknown  helper.  He  de- 
termined to  keep  watch  every  night. 

For  the  third  time  the  good  bishop  went  to 
the  noble’s  house.  Just  as  he  was  lifting  his 
arm  the  father  seized  the  skirt  of  his  robe  cry- 
ing, “Oh  sir,  flee  not  away  that  I may  see  and 
know  thee!”  Then  flinging  himself  at  the 
bishop’s  feet  he  cried  out,  “Oh  Nicholas,  thou 
servant  of  God,  is  it  thou?  Why  seek  to  hide 
thyself?” 


316  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


“Promise  that  you  tell  no  man  what  has  oc- 
curred,” was  the  saint’s  answer. 

Artists  often  used  to  represent  Nicholas 
with  three  golden  balls,  the  three  purses  of 
gold  he  threw  in  at  the  window.  Some  Italian 
bankers  who  had  chosen  Nicholas  as  their  pa- 
tron saint  were  the  first  to  lend  money  on 
pledges.  Their  three  golden  balls  became  the 
sign  of  the  pawnbroker. 

Thus  St.  Nicholas  came  to  be  associated 
with  the  giving  of  presents  as  were  the  three 
wise  men  from  the  east.  And  though  in  Italy 
the  sixth  of  January  is  the  time  for  gifts,  and 
in  France  New  Year’s  day  and  in  Belgium 
St.  Nicholas’s  day,  most  of  the  world  sends 
its  presents  for  the  twenty-fifth  of  December. 

Thor  and  Bacchus  and  Saturn,  the  bishop 
Nicholas  and  the  wise  men  from  the  east  have 
all  contributed  to  our  Christmas  celebration. 
Many  of  our  customs  were  not  ours  originally, 
but  are  frankly  borrowed  from  other  lands. 
So  long  is  the  list  of  these  borrowings,  could 
one  tell  them  all,  that  it  shows  as  perhaps  no 
other  holiday  does  how  truly  are  we  a com- 
posite nation  made  up  from  the  whole  world. 

Our  greeting  of  “Merry  Christmas”  comes 
from  medieval  England.  The  evergreens  and 


CHRISTMAS 


317 


mistletoe  which  deck  houses  and  churches  for 
the  holidays  date  back  to  the  time  of  the 
Druids.  In  solemn  procession  the  priests 
went  to  cut  the  mistletoe,  clad  in  white  robes 
and  carrying  golden  sickles.  It  was  supposed 
to  keep  away  witches  and  people  paid  the 
Druids  large  sums  for  a piece  to  have  as  a 
charm.  Other  greens  they  used  in  their  houses 
to  shelter  the  kind  woodland  spirits  who  found 
their  favorite  haunts  bare  in  the  winter. 

The  glossy  branches  of  holly  were  used,  says 
an  old  legend  of  the  Danes,  for  the  crown  of 
thorns  with  which  the  Roman  soldiers  mocked 
the  Saviour,  and  its  bright  red  berries  are  the 
drops  of  blood  that  fell  from  ITis  brow.  The 
apples  that  every  household  has  in  abundance 
at  Christmas  time  are  what  is  left  of  the  old 
myth  of  Iduna,  the  Norse  goddess  of  youth  and 
health,  who  gave  them  to  the  gods  to  keep  them 
ever  young.  The  gilded  nuts  and  balls  are  a 
symbol  of  the  sun. 

Our  Christmas  carols  date  far,  far  back  to 
the  song  of  the  angels  that  first  Christmas  Eve. 
The  use  of  greeting  cards,  a custom  so  popular 
of  late  years,  is  rather  modern.  It  began  in 
England  in  1846  when  Sir  Henry  Cole  sent 
the  first  ones  to  his  friends.  They  were  the 


318  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


size  of  small  visiting  cards  with  a spray  of  hoi- 
ly  or  mistletoe  and  the  compliments  of  the  day. 
As  an  experiment  a printer  published  a thous- 
and cards  and — sold  them  all ! 

From  Belgium  we  borrowed  the  Christmas 
stocking,  at  least  the  germ  of  the  idea.  The 
children  there  put  their  shoes — wooden  shoes, 
china  shoes  sold  in  the  shops  for  this  special 
purpose,  or  everyday  leather  boots  polished 
extra  well — close  to  the  hearth.  In  them  they 
put  oats,  carrots,  or  potato  peelings,  a feast 
for  the  white  horse  of  St.  Nicholas. 

In  the  morning  they  find  that  a strange 
thing  has  happened.  All  the  furniture  is 
topsy-turvy.  The  food  in  the  shoes  is  gone. 
In  its  place  are  sweetmeats  and  little  gifts  for 
good  boys  and  girls,  bits  of  coal  and  birch  rods 
for  the  naughty  ones.  On  his  way  to  America 
St.  Nicholas  changed  his  white  horse  for  a 
team  of  reindeer,  and  the  shoe  custom  was 
altered  to  stockings. 

Not  one  day  do  we  have  at  Christmas,  but  a 
full  week  of  vacation  and  merrymaking. 
“The  holy  days”  the  early  church  called  them, 
for  each  day  of  the  fortnight  had  a special  ser- 
vice— Christmas  Eve  and  Christmas  Day,  St. 
Stephen’s,  St.  John’s,  and  so  on  to  Epiphany, 


CHRISTMAS 


319 


the  feast  of  the  wise  men.  Greeks  and 
Romans  and  Scandinavians  celebrated  for  a 
week  or  more.  We  still  follow  the  old  me- 
dieval custom  of  watching  the  old  year  out  and 
welcoming  the  new  year  with  the  ringing  of 
bells.  But  New  Year’s,  the  turning  of  a fresh 
page  in  the  book  of  life,  is  by  no  means  a new 
celebration.  It  dates  back  to  3000  B.  C.  at 
Babylon. 

All  our  holiday  customs,  you  see,  are  bor- 
rowed, even  the  Christmas  tree.  That  comes 
from  Germany  if  indeed  it  doesn’t  come  from 
very  much  farther  back,  from  the  sacred  ash 
tree  which  the  Scandinavians  thought  grew  at 
the  roots  of  the  world. 

There’s  an  old  legend  that  we  owe  the  Christ- 
mas tree  to  Martin  Luther  who  was  once  jour- 
neying homeward  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  De- 
cember through  a snow-covered  country  under 
a glittering  starlit  sky.  He  was  entranced  by 
the  glorious  mystery  of  the  stars.  He  tried  to 
explain  to  his  wife  and  children  how  beautiful 
a sight  it  was.  He  went  out  into  the  garden, 
cut  down  a little  fir  tree,  dragged  it  into  the 
nursery  and  put  some  candles  into  its  branches. 
He  lighted  them  and  behold!  the  first  Christ- 
mas tree!  Each  year  Luther  dressed  such  a 


320  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


tree  for  his  children  to  enjoy.  His  neighbors 
borrowed  the  idea  and  little  by  little  it  spread 
over  all  Germany. 

It  was  the  marriage  of  Queen  Victoria  to  a 
German  prince  that  took  the  Christmas  tree  to 
England.  When  their  oldest  child,  the  Prin- 
cess Victoria,  was  five  years  old  her  father  set 
up  a tree  on  Christmas  Eve,  German  fashion, 
in  the  nursery  at  Windsor  Castle.  It  was 
about  eight  feet  high  with  the  figure  of  an  an- 
gel with  outstretched  wings  at  its  top.  It  had 
dozens  of  wax  tapers  and  candies  of  all  kinds, 
gilt  gingerbread,  fancy  cakes,  toys  and  dolls. 
This  set  the  style  in  Great  Britain.  The  next 
year  a Christmas  tree  blazed  and  twinkled  in 
every  household. 

The  tree  came  to  America  however  before  it 
went  into  England.  German  settlers  brought 
the  custom  with  them.  Christmas  trees  were 
lighted  and  enjoyed  wherever  there  was  a little 
group  from  Hamburg  or  Berlin.  New 
Englanders  were  slow  to  take  up  such  a 
practise.  Their  ancestors  had  protested  earn- 
estly, bitterly  against  such  celebrations.  So 
fierce  an  assault  on  Christmas  they  made  that 
during  the  Commonwealth  the  day  was  driven 
from  the  land  by  act  of  Parliament.  Indeed 


CHRISTMAS 


321 


for  more  than  twenty  years  it  was  against  the 
law  to  celebrate  Christmas  in  Massachusetts. 

The  day  is  named  for  the  Christ-child,  His 
mass.  We  celebrate  to  remember  His  birth- 
day and  honor  Him.  Why  then  do  we  have 
Santa  Claus  and  from  what  country  does  he 
come? 

From  Holland  and  our  Dutch  friends  whose 
patron  saint  is  Nicholas.  See  how  the  name 
came  to  be:  St.  Nicholas,  St.  Nicholaus, 

Niclaes,  San  Claus — there  you  are,  Santa 
Claus ! Long  has  America  been  his  home,  for 
he  came  to  New  York,  New  Amsterdam  it  was 
called  then,  with  the  earliest  of  the  Dutch  set- 
tlers. The  ship  which  carried  them  to  the  new 
world  bore  a figurehead  of  St.  Niclaes.  Their 
first  church  was  named  for  Nicholas  and  he 
was  the  patron  saint  of  the  new  town  on  Man- 
hattan island. 

Romans,  Teutons,  wise  men  from  the  east 
and  humble  shepherds,  French  and  Belgians, 
Greeks  and  Dutch,  men  of  every  land  have 
helped  build  up  our  Christmas  customs.  In 
return  we  must  make  our  celebration  all-inclu- 
sive, a season  of  the  year  when  every  one  shares 
in  the  fun  and  jollity,  in  the  greens  and 
gifts,  in  the  true  holiday  spirit.  With  bright 


322  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

red  ribbons  and  holly,  with  dolls  and  soldiers 
and  tin  horns,  with  apples  and  golden  oranges, 
it’s  easy  to  keep  Christmas.  But  you  can’t 
keep  it  alone.  It  is  only  kept  by  being  shared. 


READING  LIST 


If  you  are  interested  in  these  holidays  and  their 
heroes  and  want  to  learn  more  about  them,  read — 

Robert  E.  Lee 

Barnes:  Son  of  Light  Horse  Harry 

Bradford:  Lee  the  American  (by  a northerner) 

Faris : Makers  of  Our  History,  chapter  16 

Hill : On  the  Trail  of  Grant  and  Lee 

Lee:  Recollections  and  Letters  of  General  Robert 

E.  Lee  (by  his  son) 

Page:  Robert  E.  Lee,  the  Southerner  (by  a 

Virginian) 

The  Feast  of  Lanterns 

Doolittle:  Social  Life  of  the  Chinese,  II,  34-38 

Giles:  Chinese  Sketches,  108-111 

Gray:  China,  chapter  11 

Headland:  Home  Life  in  China,  chapter  14 

Miller:  Little  People  of  Asia,  323-325 

Van  Bergen:  Story  of  China,  part  II,  chapter  10 

323 


324  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 


Abraham  Lincoln 

Bolton:  Poor  Boys  Who  Became  Famous,  342-367 

Browne : Every-day  Life  of  Lincoln 

Lodge  and  Roosevelt:  Hero  Tales  from  American 

History,  323—335 

Sparks:  Men  Who  Made  the  Nation,  chapter  12 

Tarbell:  Boy  Scouts’  Life  of  Lincoln 

Whitlock:  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln 

St.  Valentine 

Brand:  Popular  Antiquities  of  Great  Britain,  I, 

53-62 

Chambers  : Book  of  Days,  Feb.  14 

Denton:  Holiday  Facts  and  Fancies,  chapter  3 

Hone:  Every-day  Book,  I,  215-231 

Patten:  Year’s  Festivals,  chapter  3 

Urlin:  Festivals,  Holy  Days  and  Saints’  Days, 

34-37 

George  Washington 

Baldwin:  Four  Great  Americans,  9-68 

Brooks:  True  Story  of  George  Washington 

Dana:  Makers  of  America,  chapter  2 

Gordy : American  Leaders  and  Heroes,  chapters 

10,  16 

Hapgood:  George  Washington 

Irving  and  Fiske:  Washington  and  His  Country 


READING  LIST 


325 


Japanese  Festivals 

Ayrton:  Child  Life  in  Japan,  64-67 

Bacon:  Japanese  Girls  and  Women,  28-31,  362- 

364 

Blaisdell-Dalrymple:  Ume  San  in  Japan 

Fraser:  Letters  from  Japan,  I,  297-304,  II,  235- 

252 

Huntingdon : Asia,  a Geography  Reader,  chapter 

18 

Kelman : Children  of  Japan,  chapter  13 

St.  Patrick 

Chenoweth:  Stoi’ies  of  the  Saints,  chapter  4 

Flood:  Ireland,  its  Saints  and  Scholars,  chapter  2 

Joyce:  Wonders  of  Ireland,  5-17,  136—152 

Mannix : Patron  Saints,  III,  chapter  2 

St.  Patrick,  Apostle  of  Ireland 
Steedman:  Our  Island  Saints,  chapter  4 

Lexington  Day 

Bacon:  Historic  Pilgrimages  in  New  England, 

332-399 

Brooks : Century  Book  of  the  American  Revo- 

lution, 17—54 

Coffin:  Boys  of  ’76,  chapter  1 

Moses:  Paul  Revere,  the  Torch  Bearer  of  the 

Revolution 


326  THE  WORLD  S HOLIDAYS 

Powell : Historic  Towns  of  New  England,  243-297 

Tiffany:  From  Colony  to  Commonwealth,  91-114 

Poland’s  Constitution 

Bain:  Last  King  of  Poland,  chapters  10-12 

Harley:  Poland  Past  and  Present,  book  I, 

chapters  5,  6 

Lord:  Second  Partition  of  Poland,  192-208 

Orvis : Brief  History  of  Poland,  chapter  5 

Phillips:  Poland,  66-88 

Whitton:  History  of  Poland,  chapter  9 

Memorial  Day 

Gregg:  Makers  of  the  American  Republic,  465- 

495 

McSpadden:  Book  of  Holidays,  159-170 

Murphy:  Flash  Lights  on  American  History,  151- 

158 

New  England  Magazine,  new  series  32:  467  (1905)  : 
Origin  of  Memorial  Day 
Schauffler : Memorial  Day 

Walsh:  Curiosities  of  Popular  Customs,  326-328 

Declaration  of  Independence 

Elson : Side  Lights  on  American  History,  I, 

chapter  1 


READING  LIST  327 

Harper’s  Monthly  85:  165  (1892):  How  the  Dec- 

laration was  Received  in  the  Old  Thirteen 
Higginson : Young  Folks’  History  of  the  United 

States,  chapter  20 

Lodge : Story  of  the  Revolution,  chapter  7 

Merwin:  Thomas  Jefferson,  chapter  4 

Morse:  Thomas  Jefferson,  23-35 

Jan  Htjs 

Hodges : Saints  and  Heroes  to  the  End  of  the 

Middle  Ages,  248-257 

Kryshanovskaya : Torch-bearers  of  Bohemia 

Lutzow:  Bohemia,  an  Historical  Sketch,  91-107 

Maurice:  Bohemia,  175-220 

Monroe : Bohemia  and  the  Cechs,  chapter  4 

Schwarze:  John  Hus,  the  Martyr  of  Bohemia 

Bastille  Day 

Carlyle:  French  Revolution,  book  V,  chapters  4-7 

Farmer:  History  of  the  French  Revolution,  149- 

170 

Kirkland:  Short  History  of  France,  chapter  29 

Marshall:  History  of  France,  chapter  78 

Morris:  Historical  Tales — French,  269-274 

Price:  Stories  from  French  History,  chapters  20- 

24 


328  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Simon  Bolivab 

Couch:  Roll  Call  of  Honour,  chapter  1 

Dawson:  South  American  Republics,  II 

Johnston:  World  Patriots,  chapter  2 

Olcott:  Good  Stories  for  Great  Birthdays,  352- 

392 

Sanderson:  Hero  Patriots  of  the  Nineteenth 

Century,  chapter  4 
Sherwell:  Simon  Bolivar 


The  Star-spangled  Banner 

Columbia  Historical  Society  22:207  (1919):  Dr. 
William  Beanes 

Key-Smith:  Francis  Scott  Key 

Marine:  British  Invasion  of  Maryland,  166-169, 

182-190 

Patriotism  and  the  Flag,  chapter  4 

Pickett:  Literary  Hearthstones  of  Dixie,  175-198 

Scharf:  History  of  Maryland,  III,  116-122 


United  Italy 

Bayley : Making  of  Modern  Italy 

Birkhead : Heroes  of  Modern  Europe,  chapters  16, 

17 

Garibaldi : Autobiography 


READING  LIST 


329 


Sedgwick:  Short  History  of  Italy,  chapters  37—38 

Standing:  Guerilla  Leaders  of  the  World,  chap- 

ter 9 

Trevelyan:  Short  History  of  the  Italian  People, 

chapters  27-30 

Christopher,  Columbus 

Bolton:  Famous  Voyagers  and  Explorers,  chapter  1 

Johnson:  World’s  Discoverers,  chapters  3—7 

Lennes  and  Phillips : Story  of  Columbus 

McMurry:  Pioneers  on  Land  and  Sea,  chapter  7 

Moores : Story  of  Christopher  Columbus 

Seelye:  Story  of  Columbus 

The  Gunpowder  Plot 
Ainsworth : Guy  Fawkes 

Brooke-Hunt : Prisoners  of  the  Tower  of  London, 

253-263 

Creighton:  Stories  from  English  History,  chapter 

37 

Dickens : Child’s  History  of  England,  chapter  32 

Gardiner:  What  the  Gunpowder  Plot  Was 

Marshall:  An  Island  Story,  chapter  74 

Thanksgiving 

Carver:  Sketches  of  New  England,  chapter  2 


330  THE  WORLD’S  HOLIDAYS 


Earle:  Customs  and  Fashions  in  Old  New  England, 

chapter  9 

Love:  Fast  and  Thanksgiving  Days  of  New  Eng- 

land, chapters  5,  27 

Magazine  of  American  History  8:757  (1882): 
Origin  of  Thanksgiving  Day 
Magazine  of  American  History  14:556  (1885): 
Thanksgiving  Day,  Past  and  Present 
Tittle:  Colonial  Holidays  52—73 

Wiggin  and  Smith:  Story  Hour,  107-114 

Christmas 

Hodges:  When  the  King  Came,  1-39 
Jameson:  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,  II,  450—465 

McKnight : St.  Nicholas 

Pringle  and  Urann:  Yule-Tide  in  Many  Lands 

Walsh:  Story  of  Santa  Klaus 

Warren:  Holidays,  chapters  1-8 


REFERENCE  INDEX 


Adams,  John,  68,  159,  160, 
162,  164,  167,  173. 

Adams,  Samuel,  116-7,  121-2, 
125,  128,  155. 

Armistead,  Col.  George,  228-9, 
231-2. 

Baltimore,  defense  of,  224, 
226-8,  233-4. 

Bastille,  built  for  fortress, 
196-8;  used  as  royal  prison, 
198-9;  symbol  of  oppres- 
sion, 199;  besieged  by 
Parisian  mob,  199-201 ; 
safety  promised  garrison, 
201-2;  taken  by  mob,  202; 
prisoners  found  in,  203;  de- 
stroyed, 203-4;  only  its  out- 
line remains,  205-6. 

Beanes,  Dr.  William,  222-8, 
230. 

Bethlehem,  305-10. 

Bethlehem  chapel,  176-9. 

Bohemian  holiday,  174-192. 

Bolivar,  Simon,  79 ; heir  to 
vast  estates  in  Venezuela, 
208;  wins  from  crown 
prince  of  Spain  at  tennis, 
209;  devotes  himself  to  lib- 
erty of  Venezuela,  209-10; 
joins  patriot  group,  210-1; 
enters  Caracas  in  triumph, 
211-2,  217-8;  to  Jamaica  and 
Haiti,  212-3;  frees  slaves. 


213;  crosses  Andes  and  de- 
feats Spanish  army,  213-7; 
president  of  Colombia,  218; 
frees  Ecuador,  Peru,  Bo- 
livia, 218-9;  dreams  for 
South  America,  219-20;  dies 
penniless,  220;  honors  in 
South  America,  221. 

Bolivia,  218-9,  221. 

Boxing  Day  (England),  312. 

Braddock,  General,  62-4. 

Bradford,  Governor,  295-301. 

Brown,  John,  9. 

Catesby,  Robert,  278-83,  289- 
91. 

Cavour,  Count,  241-2,  248, 
253. 

Christmas,  the  first,  305-10; 
birth  of  Christ,  305-7;  visit 
of  shepherds,  307-9,  and 
wise  men,  309-10,  316,  318- 
9;  candles,  312;  cards,  317- 
8;  carols,  317;  fruit,  317; 
•greens,  316-7 ; stockings, 
318;  tree,  319-20;  the  name 
Christmas,  321. 

Colombia,  211,  214-21. 

Columbus,  Christopher,  boy- 
hood in  Genoa,  256-7;  plans 
voyage  west  to  reach  the 
east,  258;  needs  ships  and 
money,  258 ; appeals  to 
Genoa  and  Portugal,  259,  to 


331 


332 


REFERENCE  INDEX 


Spain,  259-63;  eight  years 
of  delay,  260;  at  convent  of 
LaRabida,  260-1 ; Spain  re- 
fuses help,  262;  starts  to 
France,  262;  queen  decides 
to  help  him,  262-3;  ships 
and  sailors  secured,  263; 
start  from  Palos,  263-4; 
difficulties  of  voyage,  264-6; 
land  sighted,  266-7 ; land- 
ing, 254-5;  stormy  voyage 
back  to  Spain,  268-9;  at 
court,  269-70;  three  more 
voyages,  271;  returns  to 
Spain  in  chains,  272;  dies 
neglected,  272;  honored  in 
three  continents,  273. 

Concord,  114,  117,  119,  120, 
122-4,  128-31,  133,  155. 

Confederate  States  of  Amer- 
ica, 2,  3,  42-3. 

Constance,  council  of,  174, 
181-9. 

Continental  Congress,  67-8,  75, 

157- 63,  168-9,  172. 

Cornwallis,  Lord,  72-5. 

Dawes,  William,  119-20,  122-4, 
128,  133. 

Declaration  of  Independence, 
growing  sentiment  in  favor 
of,  155-8;  Lee’s  resolution, 

158- 60,  162-4 ; committee 

chosen  to  prepare,  160,  Jef- 
ferson to  write,  160-2;  de- 
bate on,  164-7;  adopted  by 
Congress,  167-8;  read  to 
public  in  Philadelphia,  154, 
169-70,  to  army,  171;  signed 
by  members  of  Congress, 
172. 


DeLaunay,  governor  of  Bas- 
tille,^ 198-9,  201-2,  206. 

Douglas,  Stephen  A.,  38-40, 
42. 

Ecuador,  218-9,  221. 

Fawkes,  Guy,  soldier  of  for- 
tune, enlisted  by  Catesby, 
280;  learns  about  coal  cel- 
lars, 281,  about  postponed 
meeting  of  Parliament,  282; 
questioned  about  fagots  in 
cellar,  287 ; arrested,  287- 
8;  taken  before  king,  288; 
tortured  in  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, 288-9;  death,  291;  day 
celebrated,  274-7. 

Feast  of  dolls,  80-8;  of  flags, 
89-97;  of  lanterns,  22-31. 

Ferdinand,  king  of  Spain,  262- 
3,  270,  272. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  160,  162, 
166-8. 

Garibaldi,  Giuseppi,  237-8, 
241;  bred  a sailor,  242;  sees 
Rome,  242-3;  dreams  of 
Rome  as  capital  of  Italy, 
243;  joins  “Young  Italy,” 
243;  captured,  escapes,  243; 
guerrilla  warfare  in  South 
America,  243-4;  returns  to 
Italy,  245-6;  in  command  at 
Rome,  246;  opposes  sur- 
render of  city,  246-7 ; in 
New  York,  248;  leads  vol- 
unteers of  1859,  248;  with 
the  “Thousand”  to  Sicily, 
249-50 ; meets  Victor  Em- 
manuel, 250-1 ; refusing 


REFERENCE  INDEX 


333 


honors  returns  to  island, 
251-2;  enters  Rome  with 
king,  253;  statute  saluted, 
236,  253. 

Gettysburg,  11-3,  15,  50. 

Grant,  U.  S.,  14-7,  46-9. 

Gunpowder  plot,  277-92. 

Hancock,  John,  68,  115-7,  121- 

2,  125,  155,  168,  172. 

Henry,  Patrick,  66,  156. 

Holidays,  311-2,  318-9. 

Hus,  Jan,  at  university  of 
Prague,  175-6;  preacher  at 
Bethlehem  chapel,  176;  ene- 
mies and  friends,  176-7; 
protests  against  calling 
Wycliffe’s  writings  heresy, 
178,  against  sale  of  indul- 
gences, 179;  excommuni- 
cated, 179-80;  voluntary  ex- 
ile, 180;  writes  in  Bohemian 
language,  180-1 ; summoned 
to  council  at  Constance, 
181 ; given  safe-conduct, 
181;  arrested,  182-3;  in 
prison,  183-4;  trial,  185-6; 
urged  to  recant,  186-7 ; sen- 
tenced, 187-9;  procession  to 
Briihl,  189-90;  death,  190- 
1;  war  in  Bohemia  to 
avenge  his  death,  191. 

Independence  day,  154-73. 

Isabella,  queen  of  Spain,  260- 

3,  270. 

James  I of  England,  277-8, 
282,  286,  288. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  156,  160-2, 
166-7. 


Key,  Francis  Scott,  goes  to 
intercede  for  Dr.  Beanes, 
222-4;  secures  his  release, 
225 ; not  allowed  return 
home,  225-6;  watches  Brit- 
ish land,  227 ; sees  attack 
on  Ft.  McHenry,  228-9;  flag 
flying  over  fort,  229-30; 
anxious  night,  230-2;  sees 
flag  in  morning,  232-3; 
writes  poem,  233;  its  great 
popularity,  234. 

Lafayette,  74,  79. 

Laoghaire,  king  in  Irelard, 
105-8. 

LaRahida,  convent  in  Spain, 
260-1,  263. 

Lee,  Light  Horse  Harry,  79. 

Lee,  Richard  Henry,  158,  160, 
165,  173. 

Lee,  Robert  E.,  45,  47;  in 
Mexican  war,  5,  9;  captures 
John  Brown,  9;  sides  with 
Virginia,  4-6;  not  fighting 
for  slavery,  6-8;  adviser  to 
Davis,  8;  commander  of 
confederate  anny,  8-11 ; 
skill  in  attack,  10-1,  in  de- 
fense, 13;  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg, 11-3;  handicaps,  14- 
6;  surrender  to  Grant,  16- 
7;  president  of  Washington 
college,  18-9;  name  not  for 
sale,  18;  man  without  a 
country,  20. 

Lexington,  114,  117,  119-28, 
133,  155. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  4-7,  19,  21, 
213;  education,  33-6;  posi- 
tions held,  35-6;  first  sight 


334 


REFERENCE  INDEX 


of  slavery,  36;  country 
lawyer,  37 ; opposes  Doug- 
las, 38-42;  leader  of  Re- 
publicans, 39-41 ; Cooper 
Union  speech,  40-1;  elected 
president,  42,  48-9;  civil 
war,  43-9;  his  cabinet,  43- 
4,  geneials,  45-6,  great  bur- 
den, 46-7,  enemies,  47-8; 
“Father  Abraham,”  48-9; 
death,  50;  place  in  history, 
50-1. 

Logan,  Gen.  John  A.,  orders 
observance  of  Memorial 
day,  151. 

Louis  XVI,  196,  204. 

McHenry,  Fort,  227-32,  235. 

Marie  Antoinette,  195,  204. 

Mary,  mother  of  Christ,  305-7. 

Mazzini,  240-3,  253. 

Memorial  day,  first  observed 
in  Columbus,  Miss.,  147- 
50;  story  in  northern  pa- 
pers, 151;  G.  A.  R.  adopts 
custom  of  decorating  graves 
of  civil  war  soldiers,  151-2, 
and  soldiers  of  later  wars, 
153. 

Minden,  cartel  ship,  224,  226- 
8,  230-3. 

Minute-men,  115,  121,  124*- 
33. 

Mounleagle,  Lord,  284-7. 

Mount  Vernon,  60,  65-7,  76. 

Peru,  218-9,  221. 

Poland,  constitution  of,  134- 
46;  partitions  of,  135,  142- 
3. 

Polo,  Marco,  93,  258,  267. 


Revere,  Paul,  organizes  patrol 
in  Boston,  116;  first  warn- 
ing ride  to  Lexington,  117; 
arranges  for  signal  lan- 
terns, 118;  other  rides  for 
Sons  of  Liberty,  119;  in- 
structions from  Dr.  War- 
ren, 119-20;  crosses  to 
Charlestown,  120;  meets 
British  officers,  120-1;  at 
Lexington,  121-2;  captured 
half  way  to  Concord,  123- 
4;  returns  to  Boston,  125; 
ride  repeated  in  modern 
times,  113-4,  133. 

St.  Nicholas,  313-6,  318,  321. 

St.  Patrick,  childhood,  98-9; 
captured  by  pirates,  sold  as 
slave,  99-100;  swineherd, 
100-1;  returns  home,  101-3; 
dreams  of  Ireland,  103; 
years  of  study,  104;  to  Ire- 
land, 104-5;  festival  at 
Tara,  105-8;  journeys  over 
Ireland,  108-9;  rids  country 
of  snakes,  109-10;  builds 
churches  and  schools,  110; 
death,  111. 

St.  Valentine,  52-4. 

Santa  Claus,  321. 

Sigismund,  emperor  of  Ger- 
many, 181-4,  187-9. 

Skinner,  Col.  John,  222,  224- 
8,  230,  232. 

Sons  of  Liberty,  115-8. 

Standish,  Capt.  Miles,  299- 
300. 

Stanislas,  last  king  of  Poland, 
opens  Diet,  135;  submits 
new  constitution,  136-8;  its 


REFERENCE  INDEX 


385 


sweeping  changes,  137-8 ; 
swears  to  defend  constitu- 
tion, 138-40 ; congratula- 
tions, 140-1 ; appeals  for 
help,  142. 

“Star-spangled  Banner,”  222- 
35. 

Sumter,  Fort,  3,  43. 

Thanksgiving,  celebrated  in 
England,  Rome,  Greece, 
Jerusalem,  294-5;  first  cele- 
bration in  America,  295- 
302;  Indian  guests,  298-9; 
preparations,  298;  dinner, 
301;  a New  England  holi- 
day, 302;  taken  up  by  other 
states,  303;  since  1865  cele- 
brated by  whole  country, 
303-4. 

Venezuela,  207-14,  217-21. 

Versailles,  193-6,  202-4. 

Victor  Emmanuel,  237-42,  249- 
53. 

Warren,  Dr.  Joseph,  115,  117, 
119-20,  125,  132-3. 


Washington,  George,  10,  13, 
35,  171,  208;  at  school,  57; 
appointed  midshipman,  58 ; 
surveyor,  59-60;  takes  mes- 
sage to  French  in  Ohio 
country,  60-2;  on  Brad- 
dock’s  staff,  62-4;  com- 
mands forces  of  Virginia, 
64;  marriage,  64-5;  busy 
life  at  Mt.  Vernon,  65-6; 
to  two  Congresses  at  Phila- 
delphia, 67;  commander-in- 
chief of  American  army, 
68-9;  makes  army,  70;  suc- 
cess at  Boston,  70-1,  Tren- 
ton, 71-2,  Princeton,  72-3, 
Yorktown,  73-5;  defeats,  75; 
appeals  to  officers,  75-6;  re- 
fuses to  be  king,  76;  presi- 
dent of  constitutional  con- 
vention, 77;  president  of  U. 
S.,  77-8;  lays  foundation  of 
new  government,  78-9. 

Yorktown,  73-5. 

“Young  Italy,”  240,  243. 

Yule  log,  312. 


THE  END 


D00532080 


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